One Good Reason
by Richefic
Summary: In 400 years Duncan has never heard of an Immortal taking in a preimmortal, its dangerous, its difficult and its just not done. So, when Tessa decides they ought to help Richie things get very complicated.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer. Still not mine.

AN – Very slightly AU in that I never did really understand how Duncan was going to watch Richie if he was going to leave Tessa, so no-one will be threatening to leave anyone but otherwise cannon.

* * *

"Yes, right. Thank you officer. I'll be there in the morning. Goodnight." 

Duncan put the phone down with a profound sense of relief. At least something had gone right tonight.

"Who was that?"

The coolness in Tessa's tone reminded him all too vividly of the many things that had gone wrong tonight. Summoning an apologetic smile he turned towards her.

"I'm sorry, this hasn't been much of a birthday for you, so far has it?"

The way her eyes narrowed warned him she wasn't ready to be placated. He could hardly blame her. First their love making him been interrupted by a teenage thief and then Slan Quince had dropped in uninvited. Closely followed by his own kinsman Connor Macleod, who had opened Tessa's eyes to a world of challenges and retribution that the man she trusted with her life had deliberately kept hidden from her these past twelve years.

"It was the Police," He conceded. "They picked up our little thief a few blocks from here. He had some jewellery from the Store in his pocket, so they arrested him."

"Arrested?" Tessa looked shocked. "But he's just a boy. He doesn't belong in jail with murderers and thieves."

"Tess, he tried to rob us," Duncan nodded towards the couple of cups, a bowl and other valuables, which spilled out of the holdall left abandoned in the Store. He looked away. "Besides, he's safer in jail."

"Safer?"

The word hung in the air between them.

"He's still a minor, they won't put him in with the hardened criminals." Duncan moved out into the Store, busying himself with picking up a chair here, a broken vase there, anything to avoid the look in her eyes.

"You think this Slan will harm him." She crossed her arms. _And me. _Although she did not voice that thought.

"He's not part of this," Duncan shrugged, knowing that wasn't entirely true."I'm just being cautious."

Because you need to be, her eyes accused him. Because you believe that he will come here again, invading our lives and our home with his violence and hate. And death.

"When you threatened to cut off the boy's head," her words were soft, but her expression was not. "You meant it."

She had seen how the blonde's eyes had widened with sheer terror when Duncan had threatened him with the Katana in his hands and deadly intent in his eyes. How desperately he had tried to bargain for his life.

He couldn't deny it. She knew him too well. But then he couldn't explain either. Not really.

"I thought he was someone else."

"Oh well that would make it alright." Her words were thick with sarcasm.

"Tessa," He stood in the middle of the store, looking at the smashed windows and scattered objects and feared deep in his soul that he was looking at the wreckage of his life. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about all this before."

Something in the stance of this man, whom she loved more than life, caught at her soul and she crossed towards him, laying her head on his chest, finally allowing herself the familiar comfort as his arms came around and held her in his embrace.

"You can tell me later." She allowed.

"Later?" He drew back slightly, surprised.

"We have not yet finished what we were doing when we were so rudely interrupted, non?" She smiled suggestively.

He nuzzled her hair lightly, breathing in the scent of her, the life. Perhaps it would not be so bad. But deep at the core of him he knew that things had changed and that the paradise he had enjoyed for more than a decade was about to come to an end.

And then there was the boy to consider.

* * *

By the time he had returned from his run the next morning, his mind was made up. It was harsh, but the boy could hardly carry on as he so obviously had been and this way at least he might yet survive until he could hold his own in the Game. Of course, he'd never take to him afterwards, but Duncan wasn't on the lookout for a student. Let Connor be the firm but fair Uncle who turned up on visiting days with contraband and chocolate to win the blonde over. 

It was for the best.

What he hadn't counted on was Tessa's reaction.

"But you can't press charges," She stared at him when he broke the news over breakfast, a forkful of eggs frozen halfway to her mouth. "Duncan, he's only a child. You saw how thin he was. And his hair has not been cut in too long and his clothes! I do not think anyone can be taking care of him. His jeans were all ripped."

"I think that's the fashion sweetheart."

"Well, I do not think that jacket is haute couture," Tessa refused to be mollified. "Obviously he needed the money."

Duncan sighed. He'd seen her sympathy for his plight in her eyes last night. The boy had had an air of casual neglect. His clothes well worn and not exactly clean. And thin, too thin for a growing lad his age.

Still.

"That's exactly my point," he put down his coffee cup and leaned across the table towards her, trying to convince her. "He can't be more than sixteen. If he's convicted now for a first offence he won't get more than a couple of years. In Juvie he'll get decent food, a chance at a proper education, a fresh start and best of all, he'll still be alive."

"You can be so sure of this?" Tessa challenged. "What if he is older? What if the courts give him a longer sentence? If he is eighteen he will be put in an adult jail, n'est pas? You are no fool, Duncan Macleod. You know what such places would be like for a boy like him."

"Tess." He floundered he knew that, of course he did. Sensing her advantage she pressed on.

"What he needs Duncan, is a home, a family who cares enough for him to know when he is out in the middle of the night, to support him in being whatever he wishes to be, who can teach him by example to be a better person. Locking him up will only teach him to be a better criminal!"

"I think he's pretty good already." Duncan commented wryly. The boy had gone through their state of the art security system like it wasn't even there.

"Duncan!"

"Tess, I can't just let him walk. What if he starts shooting his mouth off about what he saw? We could all be in danger. Including him."

"Why not just tell him the truth?"

"About Immortals?" Duncan almost choked on his coffee. "First he robs us, then on the phone last night they told me he tried to save his own skin by spinning some tale about three men with swords and now you want me to entrust him with a secret that affects countless lives?"

"Well then," Tessa smiled sweetly, sensing victory within her grasp. "You'll just have to make him a deal he can't refuse, won't you?"

"Alright," He sighed, conceding defeat. "No charges."

* * *

As he arrived at the Police Station he had harboured hopes that he might have been mistaken. That perhaps the boy was not of their kind after all. But as he approached the small interview room the soft thrum of a pre-immortal buzz beat steadily. When he found out Ryan was nearly eighteen he almost changed his mind and decided to press charges after all. 

Almost.

Except that Tessa would kill him.

Still, Duncan had to fight to keep his temper in check. Everything about the waythe blondewas lounging in the small interview room was calculated to annoy, to demonstrate that he was too hard and too cool to be phased by a night in the cells.

"This gentleman would like to talk to you," Powell knocked Richie's feet off the desk. "Now you give me one excuse to bust your butt while you're still here and you'll do ten on the taxpayers' money, punk. Got it?"

"Oh, yes sir, Sergeant Powell, I certainly do, sir."

The obvious sarcasm had Duncan clenching his jaw in anger, forcing him to look away, so that he missed the flat, hollow, look in the boy's eyes as Powell effectively washed his hands of him.

"He's all yours."

By the time Duncan looked back Ryan had railed; he knew as well as Duncan that the Police had enough evidence to put him away. The Antique Store owner's refusal to press charges could only mean one thing; he was here to cut a deal and they both knew it.

"Honestly sir, I really do appreciate this second chance you're going to give me to become a useful member of society."

His insincerity grated on Duncan's nerves, so that his response came out harsher than he had intended.

"If I let you out of here, I do not want anyone coming around asking about your little fantasies. That is the deal."

Ryan had agreed, as well he might. But his little speech had done nothing to further endear him to the Immortal, causing him to mutter darkly to himself in Gaelic under his breath 'word of honour' indeed! What did a liar and a thief know about honour?

"So, I'd love to stay and chat," Ryan's cheeky tone cut into his thoughts. "But I've got things to do, places to be .."

"People to rob?" Duncan cut in his tone cold.

The boy just gave him a cocky grin and slid the sunglasses firmly into place as he stood up, gathered up the rest of his stuff and made his way towards the door.

"Ryan."

At the sound of his name the boy stopped, but did not turn. Duncan clamped his jaw together and forced himself to be patient, with Slan still in town he couldn't in good conscience just let him walk out of here. Pulling out his wallet, he extracted one of his business cards and quickly scrawled the private line to the apartment on the back. Extracting a twenty-dollar bill, he paused before adding two more and walked around until he was facing him.

"If you see anything of Slan, call me."

The boy looked at the money as if it were contaminated and made no move to take it. Correctly reading his reluctance to accept what he saw as blood money, Duncan's opinion of the boy rose slightly. With a sigh he pocketed the money and offered the card again.

"Just call."

The boy took the card, looked at it, flipped it over, read the number on the back and dropped it on the table as he shook his head.

"I can look after myself. Always have."

* * *

If that were true, Duncan reflected wryly as he sparred with Connor in the abandoned warehouse, then it was amazing that the boy had lived this long. He was too damn curious for his own good. 

"The boy's here." Connor noted, as they broke apart.

"I know."

Duncan turned away, busying himself with rubbing the Katana with a soft cloth, as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"After he left the Police Station. I followed him."

"Oh?"

He wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but it certainly hadn't been what he had found. The boy had headed across town to a subdivision of small, neat houses, bright with new paint and front yards full of flowers. Not bothering with the front door Richie had scaled the trellis of a compact blue and white house, disappearing through an open window. At first, Duncan had assumed he was robbing the place but, just as he was about to intervene, Ryan had re-emerged out of the window wearing the unmistakable uniform of a local small scale burger chain.

"He has a job?" Connor looked as surprised as he had felt.

"If you can call below minimum wage a job." Duncan had rubbed a little harder at the sword blade. A word with a fellow employee had established that Ryan worked a ten hour shift for a handful of dollars a day alongside illegal immigrants and in conditions he was sure the health department would condemn.

"What about his family?" Connor asked.

"You mean the people who were too busy to come to the Police Station and collect him? Not to mention even notice the fact that their son had been out all night?" Duncan scoffed. "They own the burger joint. The boy's nothing more than slave labour."

"As soon as he turns eighteen he'll be a free agent."

"I know," Duncan had been thinking about that. After work Ryan had headed to a piece of waste ground near the railways tracks where he had gazed with undisguised longing at the brightly coloured motorcycles that zipped too and fro. And done a roaring trade selling and fitting parts like a pro. Stolen parts unless the Scot missed his mark. But it had given Duncan an idea. "The garage where I have the T-Bird serviced. The owner's name is Carl Davies. He's been looking for an apprentice mechanic. The wages are low, but there's a small apartment above the garage that comes with the job and he'll train the boy up. In a few years if he keeps his nose clean and his head down he could own his own place. Be his own boss."

"You think the lad will be agreeable?"

Duncan smiled thinly. "I wasn't planning on giving him a choice."

* * *

For the third time Tessa picked up the vase and tried it in a different spot, stepping back to get the full effect. Duncan had bought it the other week from a widow who wanted to raise the airfare to go and live with her daughter in Florida. It was beyond doubt the ugliest thing she had ever seen. She shook her head in disgust. 

"It is impossible." She declared.

Decision made she picked up the vase and strode over to the back door into the alley. Opening the door she pulled back her arm and launched the vase into a perfect arc, so that it shattered against the back wall, sending shards in all directions.

"Shit."

The barely muffled cry brought her out into the alley.

"Qui est la?" She demanded, belatedly switching to English. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

Silence.

Her nerves already on edge from her encounter with Slan, Tessa reached back and picked up the broom that they used to sweep out the workshop, advancing into the alley brandishing it before her as a weapon.

"I know where you are," she lied. "I can hear you."

The slightest rustle in the paper-strewn alley alerted her to movement and she spun around so that the broom connected with the fleeing figure with a solid whack, causing him to cry out in genuine pain and fall to all fours, clutching his arm. Only then did Tessa recognise him.

"Oh petit," she cried, dropping the broom and rushing to his side. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

"M'fine." Richie muttered through gritted teeth.

"Of course you are not," Tessa corrected herself. "How can you be? I just hit you with the broom."

"S'OK," Richie managed, flexing the injured limb gingerly. "I don't think its broken or anything."

"Are you sure?" Tessa worried. "Perhaps an X-ray?"

"No," Richie vetoed that, hauling himself to his feet with the courage of his conviction. "No hospital."

"Well, at least come inside and let me take a look at it," Tessa declared. "I will find you something for the bruising."

* * *

Richie sat at the counter in the vast kitchen feeling utterly out of place as the Frenchwoman gathered together a selection of pots and jars that she peered at uncertainly before adding them to the pile as he slipped awkwardly out of his jacket. 

"Take your T-shirt off too." Tessa commanded. No sense in getting ointment on the long sleeves.

"Um," Richie looked a little sheepish. "I'm not sure I can."

"Oh," Tessa realised, coming behind him to help ease the T-shirt over his head. As her heard her gasp he figured the bruising on his arm must look as bad as it felt. He tried to hop off the stool.

"Look, I'm fine. I'll just go."

"You will not," Tessa declared stoutly. "You will sit still and let me take care of you."

"Yes ma'am." He replied, teasingly, throwing her a mock salute.

"My name is Tessa," she told him, smiling in return, as she finally selected one of the jars and began to gently rub a sweet smelling cream into the abused flesh. "And you are Richie, non?"

"Did the cops tell you that?"

"No, Duncan did."

"Oh." Richie looked away.

"The other night was very new to me too, you know," Tessa spoke softly.

"Were you scared?"

"Of course. Anyone would be. But I also know that Duncan is a good man. He would sacrifice his own life before he would allow an innocent to be harmed."

"Jason's real bad news, huh?" Richie surmised.

"Jason?"

"In the Hockey mask."

"Oh. Yes, I think so. You must be careful, petit."

"I always am."

She fervently wished that she believed that. Finishing up and putting the lid back on the jar she was just about to offer him something to eat when the slam of a car door announced Duncan's return. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Richie froze.

"Wait," Tessa tugged at his wrist, feeling the thin bones beneath. "Stay for dinner. It will be alright."

"Right, your old man comes home to find me in his kitchen with my shirt off," Richie was already frantically shrugging into his jacket, gritting his teeth against the pain, before snatching up his T-shirt. "That is so, not going to be all right."

"At least, take this." Tessa pressed the rest of the ointment into his hand.

"Tessa!" Duncan's voice echoed through the apartment, edged with concern.

Richie flashed her a quick grin and stuffed something into her hands.

"Almost forgot. I came to give you this."

The he was gone.

When Duncan as he entered the room, he found her standing with an envelope of used dollar bills in her hands and a bemused look on her face.

"What's that?"

"I think, its payment. For the window."

* * *

"It's a good idea Tess," Duncan insisted as they sat down to dinner. "He'll have a place to live, the chance to learn a trade and Carl and his wife have three teenagers of their own. It'll be like a ready made family." 

"Working in a Garage?" Her expression said she didn't think much of the idea. "He should be in School."

"Maybe later," Duncan agreed. "Right now, I just want to get him off the streets."

"We have a spare room. And we could use some help around the Store."

Duncan knew that she thought they should be doing more to help. Except that taking in a pre-immortal before his time would be like throwing an infant to the lions. Ryan would find himself in the midst of a world that was out to get him with no idea of how to defend himself or even why it was necessary.

But he couldn't tell Tessa that.

"I don't think working in an Antique Store would be exactly his thing, sweetheart."

"Why not? He clearly knows something of Antiques," Tessa pressed her point. "He knew better than to steal that awful vase."

"I told you. The poor woman wanted the money so she could go and live with her daughter in Florida. I could hardly tell her she had nothing of value to sell."

"I'll bet she tells that to all the Antique Dealers. She probably has a whole cupboard of those dreadful things under the stairs."

"He'd have to wear a suit," Duncan tried to change the subject. "I can't see that going down too well."

"You do not wear a suit," Tessa pursed her lips considering. "We can buy him some new jeans, black perhaps, and a few nice shirts. Blue would bring out the colour of his eyes. He will look adorable and charm all the rich ladies."

"Tessa, he's a human being. Not a Labrador puppy. And you wouldn't be able to take him back to the pound when he leaves marks on your cream couch or makes off with all the food from the fridge."

"Really, Duncan. Now who is talking of him as if he were a puppy?"

"I'm talking about him as if he's a teenager. They don't exactly come housetrained."

"So there will be mess and some noise," Tessa tossed her hair. "It is a small price to pay, non? For helping another human being?"

"We're already helping him Tess. We didn't send him to jail for a start and he'll enjoy working at the Garage far more than he will sweeping out your storeroom or filling my invoices."

"I suppose so." Tessa admitted reluctantly.

"I know so," Duncan relaxed into a smile. "Trust me, sweetheart. Everything will be just fine."


	2. Chapter 2

AN- Many thanks for all the positive reviews and apologies for the great delay in posting. If I actually got paid for this it would be different but my dog insists that I work so I can keep him in puppy biscuits!

* * *

Richie Ryan sighed as he punched yet another order into the cash register. He'd got to work at 6am and already had had to clean out one of the fryers that had been left overnight and now the breakfast crowd were arriving.

"Man, is it always this busy?"

Richie the old hand with three months experience looked over at the new guy, Emilio, as he snatched up two bagels and an orange juice and called for an Egg Muffin.

"Be like this until 10, maybe 10.30 now."

"And then do we get a break?" Emilio asked hopefully.

"Then we hit the lunch crowd." Franco, one of the older teens cut in.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash as one of the girls dropped a large tray of beef patties. Putting her hand to her mouth, her eyes welled up with tears.

"Oh God."

"You're gonna get it now, Nikki," Franco gloated as he carried on serving. "That's the third time this week. Old man Sutton's gonna can your butt for sure."

"I can't get fired!" The girl looked distraught. "You know how sick my Mom is. I gotta take care of me and Melinda."

"Aw hell," Richie protested, even as he shoved her towards the counter. "You serve!"

"What the hell was that?" A voice demanded from the back of the kitchen. "Nikki, you sure as hell better not be messing with my profits again."

"Richie!" Nikki worried, twisting anxiously to look over her shoulder, even as she mechanically punched the next order into the till.

"Chill," Richie offered her a grin as he bend down to pick up the mess. "He's not gonna fire me."

"That's right," Emilio smiled, remembering. "You guys are family, right?"

"Oh yeah," Franco smirked. "They're real close. How long you been there Ryan? Three whole months?"

Richie went to reply, only to hiss in pain as the still hot edge of the tray caught his finger. Popping it in his mouth he looked up to see his current foster father standing over him with a scowl on his face.

"Sorry Max," He apologised. "It was an accident."

"That makes it alright does it?" Max demanded. "Those patties cost me $1 apiece."

"$1? For this?" Richie held up the thin processed beef in disgust. "You were robbed."

"You watch your mouth kid, you're already working one double shift to pay for those. You don't want to make it two."

"I can't work this afternoon!" Richie protested. "Besides you already said I could go to the track. Gary's racing, remember?"

"You should have thought about that before you wasted my money."

"Aw c'mon Max. Look, I'll do the extra shift tomorrow."

"You'll do as you're told. I've got one guy out sick and another hasn't showed. I need the extra help this afternoon and you're it, kid."

Richie bit his lip as the man turned his back and left him to pick up the shattered remnants. Beside him he heard Nicki swear. He couldn't bear to look at her, as she spoke fiercely in his defence.

"You'd think after three months he could at least remember your dammed name."

* * *

As he pushed open the door of the small burger bar Duncan looked around at the cheap plastic tables, littered with torn wrappers, cold fries and pools of spilled coke. Over the heads of the lunch crowd he spotted Ryan's blonde curls jammed under a white paper hat.

Duncan smirked. The tough street kid looked like a grade A nerd.

Still, to be fair, he was working hard, even taking time out to watch out for the young lad who was obviously new and help out the red headed girl who looked tired and frazzled. Although his expression was enough to turn milk sour and when one customer changed his order mid way through, he made a smart assed remark that would have turned Mrs Hamilton's hair blue. And Tessa wanted this kid to work in their Store? Duncan shook his head it wouldn't be fair. Not on any of them.

"Can I help you, mister?"

Without realising, Duncan had reached the head of the line. Behind the counter an older teen with a flat, closed, expression was staring at him. Making a show of scanning the menu he shrugged. One heart attack on a plate was just as good as another.

"Cheeseburger please."

Before the teen could react Ryan appeared at his shoulder. His eyes were hard as his gaze travelled up the designer jeans and the expensive leather coat, to the all too well remembered features, hidden behind dark shades.

"Its alright, Franco, I'll deal with this guy."

"Suit yourself," Franco was already moving on the next in line.

"You checkin' up on me?" Ryan scowled.

"I was hungry." Duncan shrugged.

"Listen," the kid looked left and right before leaning over the counter and hissing in a low voice. "I've kept my mouth shut. You have all your stuff back. Hell, I even paid for the window.Now leave me alone."

"Sure. I'll just take my Cheeseburger and go."

Without a word the boy turned and picked up a packet marked Cheeseburger from the shelf behind him and put it in a large paper bag, which he pushed across the counter.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me if I want fries with that?"

To his surprise the boy added a jumbo portion of fries, a large Coke and an apple pie to the bag, before ringing it up and holding his hand out for the money.

"I didn't ask for all of that."

"You didn't come here for the food either," Ryan shrugged. "So, you buy me lunch and I let you tell me why you're really here."

"Alright." Duncan agreed, handing over enough to cover the bill. Then he picked up the bag and dropped it in the nearest trashcan.

"Hey!" Ryan protested.

"If I'm buying I pick the place."

* * *

Four blocks and an entire world away there was a small family run Italian restaurant where he had lunch from time to time with Leonard Kellerman when he was in this part of town.

"What would you like?" he asked as they settled into their seats.

"Let's see," Ryan tipped back slightly in his chair as he surveyed the menu. "I'll have the ravioli to start, with a Caesar salad, oh and do you have those little cheesy dough balls? I'll have some of those too. Actually, make that a double portion. And a family sized pizza, with the works, just pile everything on. Plus a plate of spaghetti, with that cream and ham sauce. And some garlic bread. And a beer, make that a whole pitcher."

"And for dessert, sir?" the waiter asked, giving him a wry look.

"I dunno," Ryan frowned. "Which would you recommend, the chocolate cake or the tiramisu? Tell you what, I'll have both." He closed the menu with a snap and nodded towards Duncan. "He's paying."

"And he's having one entrée and a _soft _drink." The Immortal retorted.

"Fine, whatever," Ryan rolled his eyes but placed his revised order without looking at the menu, which told Duncan he hadn't figured the Scot would go for his scam.

As the waiter left, Ryan eyed him keenly.

"So, are you going to tell me what went down the other night?"

"No." Duncan said flatly.

"Hey, like it or not I'm a part of this now."

More than you know, Duncan thought. Still, the last thing the kid needed was to be drawn even closer into Immortal affairs.

"You're not part of anything. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Hey, you were the one who put out the welcome mat. That security system was a piece of cake." Ryan bragged.

As well he might, Duncan acknowledged. That security system had been state of the art. "Sounds like you've had a lot of practice."

"I'm working on my college fund."

Duncan acknowledged the quip with a tilt of his head. Lord knows the boy's foster father paid him a pittance and with the hours he made him work there was little enough change to hold down a second job.

"There are others jobs."

"And who's gonna give me a reference?" Ryan shook his head. "You?"

"No, what I'm giving you is a chance," Duncan fished out a card and wrote a telephone number on the back. "This is the number of the garage where I have the T-Bird serviced. The owner's name is Carl Davies. He's a friend of mine. He's looking for an apprentice mechanic. The pay's not that great, but there's an apartment above the garage that comes with the job and he'll train you. Keep your nose clean and your head down and in a few years you could be your own boss. Own your own place."

He offered the card. To his surprise Ryan made no move to take it.

"He's not gonna hire me."

"Why not?"

"Dream on, Macleod. I've got a Juvie Record as long as your arm and I don't got a High School diploma."

"I haven't got a High School diploma."

"Okay, so my grammar's lousy too. You don't gotta rub it in."

"No, I meant, I never graduated from High School either and I think I've done pretty well for myself, don't you?"

"I guess." Richie gave a non-committal shrug.

"So, you'll call him?"

"And all I gotta do is turn up and not trip over my own feet?" Ryan shook his head. "Thanks but no thanks."

"Pardon?" Duncan blinked.

For a moment Richie was tempted to explain. All his life he'd been beholden to other people. Moved from place to place because someone somewhere thought they knew what was best for him. In a few weeks he'd turn 18 and for the first time in his life he'd be able to make his own choices. He didn't want to start that off being beholden to anyone.

But he didn't think Macleod would understand. So, instead he pasted on his most cocky grin.

"You heard me."

* * *

The rest of the meal was a disaster. Several times Duncan had to bite his tongue at the boy's non-existent table manners, as Ryan talked with his mouth full, and attracted sideways looks from other diners as he dug enthusiastically into his food. For his part the boy replied to his enquiries about his life and background in increasingly terse and monosyllabic answers until he finally threw down his fork.

"Who the hell are you? My new social worker? Just lay off, OK."

"I'm just trying to understand why you would turn down a perfectly good offer." Duncan began.

"With no strings attached?" Ryan scoffed. "Like you won't ever come to call in your marker? Yeah, right."

In exasperation Duncan signalled the waiter and settled the bill. Clearly this had been a mistake. He had the boy had no common ground and to be fair threatening to kill him on their first meeting wasn't exactly a sound basis for trust. He'd talk to Connor. His kinsman would be a better mentor for the teenager.

He led the way out of the restaurant and paused on the sidewalk and looked over at Ryan as heprepared to walk out of his life.

Then he frowned.

"Are you alright?"

"Sure," Ryan nodded, pulling his collar up against the cold. "Thanks, for the food and all."

Duncan wasn't at all convinced. The boy looked dreadfully pale and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, despite the biting cold. Nodding his agreement he nonetheless fell into step beside the teen as he made his way back towards the burger bar.

"What are you doing?" Ryan asked after a while.

"I'm walking you home."

"You make me sound like your date." Ryan said sourly, as he swallowed hard.

"Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth," Duncan advised, without looking at him. "It'll help."

Ryan shot him a sharp glance, but didn't say anything as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they covered the short distance. With a feeling of relief heleant gratefullyinto the heavy glass door of the burger bar and pushed his way into the warmth.

The hot air, thick with rancid fat hit him like a physical wave, causing his to sway slightly as he fought the tide of rising nausea. To his surprise he felt afirm hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He looked up to meet Macleod's concerned brown eyes.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" Max's irate tones cut across his thoughts. "You have 30 minutes for lunch. You've been almost an hour."

"Sorry Max," Richie swallowed hard, concentrating on staying upright. "Guess I lost track of time."

"What the hell's wrong with you? You been drinking?" Max leant in slightly grasping his collar and pulling Richie forward, so he could smell his breath.

"No, I'm .."

Richie felt a wash of salty saliva well up in his mouth and knew he could hold it in no longer. With a sickening heave and no small sense of satisfaction he deposited the remains of his lunch over Max's shoes.

* * *

Duncan manoeuvred the T-bird through the late afternoon traffic, casting a concerned glance at the teenager slumped in the passenger seat. He had only taken a couple of sips out of the bottle of water the Immortal had brought for him, before pressing it up against his forehead and closing his eyes.

"Maybe I should sue."Duncan offered.

One blue eye slid open to regard him groggily.

"Do what?"

"Food positioning," He clarified. "There are laws against making people sick."

"Not their fault." Ryan shook his head gently and made a face, as if he regretted the motion, before pulling himself up slightly straighter and looking groggily around.

"What you made yourself sick?" Duncan shook his head.

"Not sick, allergic," Ryan managed. "You can let me off here."

"What?" Duncan put his foot on the brake and pulled over so sharply that the T-bird shuddered to a halt and cars behind sounded their horns. Both caused Ryan to wince and look greener than ever. In exasperation Duncan snatched the water bottle out of his hand, unscrewed the top for him and passed it back.

"Drink."

He waited until the boy had taken a few swallows and was looking only slightly grey.

"You're _allergic_?"

"Broccoli," Ryan nodded carefully. "Real bad. Makes me spew."

"And you _knew _this?"

"Uh huh."

On his second try, Richie managed to work the lever and push the door open, half spilling and half lurching out on the sidewalk.

"Whoa!" Breaking all his own rules, Duncan vaulted over the driver's door and raced around the front of the car to catch the teen by the arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Bus stop," Ryan waved his arm vaguely. "Gonna take me right to the track. Gary's racing. Don't gotta be late. I promised." He managed. Just before he threw up again.

"Oh laddie." Duncan murmured.

* * *

"Thanks for this," Richie concentrated on screwing the top back onto his bottle of water, as he looked out at the track from his ringside seat. "I mean you didn't have to and all, but thanks."

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Richie considered that. "I guess."

"Gary's pretty good."

"Regional junior champion a couple of years back." Richie boasted of his friend. "If he qualifies today he might have a shot at the pro circuit. I promised I'd come and cheer him on."

"You should be at home in bed." Duncan grumbled. Part of him wanted to put the boy over his knee for being so foolhardy. But the other part of him could only admire that the lad had been prepared to go to such lengths as to deliberately make himself sick, so he could keep his promise to his friend.

"Naw. Besides, I think I pretty much don't have anything left to spew now anyway."

"I'm glad to hear it. If you don't start getting some colour back soon I think Gary might lynch me."

The teenager had greeted Ryan with an awed, "Man, you look like shit" but it was the glarethat the teenager had immeadiately sent in his direction that had caused the quiver of disquiet to trickle down the Immortal's spine and settle like a cold hard lump in his gut. Even Ryan's quiet assurance. "Chill man, he's cool." did nothing to quell his concern. The fact that Ryan needed to convince his friend that the Immortal hadn't harmed him was proofthat the kid was moving in some very dangerous circles. And it might just get him killed.

"You don't gotta mindGary. He's just looking out for me."

Lord knows, someone needed to, Duncan thought. His foster father had been more concerned about who was going to pull the afternoon shift than his foster son being sick. If Nikki hadn't pointed out as loudly as she could that Richie might be infectious and maybe they should call the board of health Duncan was pretty sure he would have forced the kid to work regardless. He certainly hadn't been about to take time out of his working day to see him safely home.

"Hey Ryan," A large biker type loomed over their seated forms. "Where's that exhaust you promised me?"

"Hey Gino," Duncan watched as the kid pasted on an obviously insincere smile. "How you doing my man?"

"I paid you $80 bucks. You owe me that part."

"I know, I know, you don't gotta rush these things. I'm working on it."

Gino reached out and grasped Richie's jacket in one fist pulling the teen up out of his seat. "Work harder or I'm gonna rearrange your face."

"Ugh," Richie turned his head away from the drops of spittle that landed on his cheek. "Whoa, easy dude."

To their joint surprise a hand reached out and effortlessly broke Gino's grasp as the Immortal slipped between Gino and the teenager.

"Leave him alone."

The words were softly spoken and Gino opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort. But something in those brown eyes made the sneer die on his tongue. With a final face saving glare at the teenager hovering at the Immortal's shoulder he turned away.

"Come on." Duncan grasped Ryan'scollar and firmly steered him in the other direction.

"Hey, it was cool. I could handle him and it wasn't like there was any real problem or anything." Richie babbled.

The Immortal just looked at him. The kid at least had the grace to blush.

"But hey, thanks."

"You really want to thank me?" Duncan looked him in the eye. "Then get out of the parts business."

The teenagertipped his head on one side to consider the Immortal before nodding. The guy had been on the level today. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to at least take a look at this job.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day Richie couldn't help but grin as he flipped the latest batch of burgers. He had a new job. A 100 legitimate, regular wage, with health insurance and holiday benefits kind of job. Of course, he was only the apprentice mechanic, but Davies had seemed legit about training him up and best of all the job came with an apartment, which meant as soon as he turned 18 he was so outta here.

"Hey! Watch what the hell you are doing!"

The slap across the back of his head jolted him back to the present, at the same moment that the acrid smell of burning assaulted his nostrils.

"Shit!" Hastily he scooped the beef patties off the grill. "Sorry, Max."

"Its not bad enough that you were still too sick to come in this morning? Now you gotta screw up too?" His foster father berated him.

Richie ducked his head and bit his tounge. He hadn't had time to change after the interview at the garge and he couldn't afford for Max to notice that he was wearing his only pair of good pants to work.

"Sorry, .. Dad."

The words stuck in his throat. The guy had never done anything to deserve that title. But at least it made the few customers clustered around the counter look disapprovingly enough at the man berating his 'son' for Max to back off.

"Yeah well, it dammed well better not happen again, or it'll be coming out of your wages, you hear me?"

"Slave driving bastard." Richie muttered, at his retreating back.

"He does not like you very much, does he?"

Richie's head snapped up at the now familiar accented tones.

"Tessa! What are you doing here!" Richie frowned at her designer handbag and fancy gold necklace.

"I was passing and I felt like .." Tessa scanned the menu for something she might actually eat and failed miserably. "seeing you." She finished with sudden inspiration.

"Uh huh," Richie gave her a glance that suggested he didn't buy it for a second. "Tess, you didn't hit me that hard."

"There were bruises!"

"So? I've had worse."

"From him?"

The icy tone in her voice surprised him. He wondered what she would do if he said yes. Would she drag her boyfrined over here to beat the crap outta Max? The thought had a certain appeal.

"Naw," He shook his head and busied himself filling up the rack of paper cups, so he missed the look of sadness his next words engendered. "Max barely even notices I'm alive. As long as I turn up and work my ass off we're cool."

"But there have been others?" The soft sympthy in her voice cut through his defenses and he blinked hard.

"You know," he swallowed and looked for a way to change the subject. "If Macloed finds out you're in this part of town he's gonna freak."

"Then," Tessa smiled. "We will not tell him."

* * *

"I can't believe we're doing this," Richie slouched in the passenger seat of the cream Merceedes. "I can't believe Max bought it. And I can't believe you lied to him."

"I never said I was your Social Worker." Tessa frowned, pumping on the clutch as she wrestled the Mercedes up a gear

"You let him think it."

"I am not responsible for what that man thinks." Tessa shrugged, steering back towards familar streets. "Besides, this is important."

"You're not taking me to get shots or nothing," Richie warned. "Cos, you gotta know, I'm allegic to needles. And doctors. They give me hives."

"No doctors. No shots." Tessa soothed.

"And I gotta tell you. I hate Dentists. Last time one of them tried to fill a cavity I bit him. Went clear through to the bone. There was blood everywhere."

"Really?" Tessa fixed him with an arched look that made Richie squirm slightly.

"Okay, so I didn't exactly bite him," Richie caved. "But I should have. That guy made Frank 'n' Furter look like the caring sharing type."

"No Dentists," Tessa assured him. He winced slightly as Tessa changed down for the lights accompanied by an unhappy grinding noise and a smattering of muttered French.

They travelled on in silence for a few blocks before Richie could stand it no longer.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Duncan told me that you accepted the job at the garage," Tessa scanned the area for a parking space. "So, I thought we should go shopping."

"Shopping?" That was the last thing he expected. "Um. For what exactly?"

"You have a new job, you will need new clothes."

"Clothes? C'mon Tess, its a garage. Its not like they're expecting me to turn up in a suit and tie. Besides they have overals and stuff."

"I think," Tessa smothered her smile. "That it is customary to wear _something_ underneath those."

"Ah," Richie slipped even furthur down in his seat as he felt the colour burn his face. Maybe she had a point. Except. "I think I already maxed out my credit card, you know?"

"Surely they will wish you to look the part. Perhaps you could get an advance on your wages?"

"Or I could just set the record for the shortest employment in history?"

Tessa pursed her lips as she considered that. Maybe asking for an advance wasn't the best way to make a new start.

"Alright then, I will lend you the money. You can pay me back a little a month when you receive your wages."

"A little a month?" Richie gawped. How many clothes did the Frenchwoman think a grease monkey needed? "Look, thanks but no thanks. I'd rather pay my own way."

"Is it so hard to accept some help from a friend?"

"Where I come from frineds do things for each other," Richie pointed out. "This ain't exactly that."

"Richie, I hurt you. I am trying to make amends." Tessa pointed out, a little frustrated.

"For that?" The boy sounded genuinely amazed "Tess, that was nothing."

"Well pardon me, but I am not accustomed to hitting people with brooms." Tessa swore in French as the gear shift stuck _again, _ramming it into place slightly more forcefully than necessary.

"Whoa Tess," Richie positively winced. "Take it easy. This thing is a classic."

"Ha," Tessa snorted her opinion of that, as she steered the car into a parking space and dug in her purse for some change."Here, put this in the parking meter."

"All of it?" Richie gawped. "Um. Tess, how long is this going to take?"

"It will take," Tessa smiled, using one of Duncan's favourite expressions. "As long as it takes."

* * *

Less than an hour later Richie deftly climbed up the trellis and, easily working the loose window latch with one hand, let himself into his bedroom and flopped on the bed.

"Well, that could have gone better." he admitted to himself.

Still, at least he could take advantage of the fact that Max thought he was off doing stuff with his Social Worker to catch up on a few zs. If he was honest he hadn't been sleeping so good since all this stuff with the swords. Yeah, that sure sounded like a plan. No-one would miss him for an hour or so. Decision made he toed off his trainers and stretched out.

"What the hell have you been up to?"

The angry voice from the doorway jerked him back to sudden awareness, blinking fuzzily in the darkening gloom. Dark? Already? _Shit_, he must have been more tired than he thought. Just how long had he been asleep?

"Max, I um .." He floundered.

"I asked you a question." He foster father made his way across the room to stand over him.

"Um," Richie thought fast, grateful that he had had the foresight to stow his two purchases with Gary. "I, um, had to .."

Before he could finish his sentance a hand flashed out and seized the front of his shirt, lifting him up off the bed until he could feel his foster father's breath on his face.

"Dave Cooper came in this afternoon. Seems he had a bit of business uptown this morning. Happened to be walking along Lever Street when he saw this red headed kid coming out of a garge," Mac shook him slightly. "Any of this sounding familiar?"

Shit. It had never occured to Richie that he might have been spotted.

"Max, I swear I was gonna tell you .."

"The hell you were," Abruptly, his foster father dropped him, so that he bounced back onto the bed, only to shrink back as the man loomed foreward. "After everything that we'v done for you, you were just going to walk out on us, weren't you? Weren't you!"

"Hey, once I'm 18 I can do as I like," Richie shot back hotly. "It's not like you own me."

"You want to be on your own?" Max challenged. "You wanna be your own man? Make your own way?"

"Dammed straight I do!"

"Then you can start right now." Max hauled him up off the bed and dragged him out of the room and down the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Richie protested, even as he tried to break free of the vice like grip.

"Giving you what you want," Max replied as he pulled opne the front door and threw Richie out onto the street. The teenager went down hard, bits of gravel biting into his hands and knees. "Get out and stay out!"

"Hey!" Richie rolled over just in time to see the door slam in his face. "What about my stuff? You've got all my stuff! And my shoes. What about my dammed shoes?"

His only response was being plunged into darkness as the hall light clicked off. Sitting on the sidewalk he briefly considered going back for his things, but the mood Max was in it would probably cost him a trip to the emergancy room. With a sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and headed off in his stocking feet into the night.

* * *

It was almost dinner time by the time Tessa let herself back into the apatment, letting the sounds and smells of cooking draw her to the kitchen.

"Hey sweetheart," Duncan greeted her, eyeing the carrier bags. "Been shopping?"

"What do you think of these," Tessa asked, holding up a pair of blue pants.

"I think they're a little short for me."

"That is because they are for Richie."

_"Tessa."_

"Don't worry, I didn't forget you, I bought you this lovely .." She began rummaging through the bags.

"Tessa," Duncan caught her wrist and her attention. "What are you doing?"

She didn't pretend to misunderstand him. They knew each other too well.

"I took him to the mall today," She sighed. "I wanted to make it up to him for hurting him the other day. It is already September and he does not even have a winter coat or shoes that do not leak."

Having spotted both items among the packages piled up on the counter Duncan realised that things had not exactly gone as planned.

"So, what happened?"

"Him!" Tessa protested. "He is too proud and stubborn to accept help even when he needs it. I almost broke his arm and he thinks this is worth nothing more than a shirt on special and a pair of store brand demins!"

"Really?" Duncan raised a brow, remembering how the kid had been all too ready to fleece _him_. Could it be that their little thief had a chivalrous streak? "So, does he even know that you bought half this stuff?"

"No, he would not, what did he say? 'stick around'. It does not matter. It will be his birthday soon enough. Everyone expects presents on their birthday."

Then again, maybe he had fleeced her after all Duncan concluded cynically.

"Tessa .."

"Its not as if that slave driver of a foster father will care. I do not think he even knows when his birthday is. He was so cold with him Duncan. I'm afraid for him."

That got the Immortal's attention.

"Did Richie say anything?"

"Perhaps he is too scared."

Privately Duncan thought that Ryan had been more scornful than afraid. In truth, he rather admired the lad for his courage to stand up to the man. It wasn't as if his foster father had gone out of his way to earn his respect.

"Tessa, I'll admit the man is a bit of a cold fish. But this is the 20th Century. There are very strict rules about who can be foster parents these days. If he was abusing Ryan I'm sure there would have been something in his records."

"Have you even checked?" Tessa's eyes flashed.

"Of course, I have!" he replied, wounded that she would think him so heartless. "There was nothing."

"I'm sorry," Tessa apologised at once. "I didn't mean .. It has been a long day and I'm tired."

Duncan reached over and pulled her against him, feeling the tension in her body as he kissed her forehead. "Why don't you go and unwind a bit before dinner?" He suggested.

"Perhaps that would be for the best," Tessa agreed. "Do I have time for a bath?"

* * *

Duncan sighed as sprinkled the last of the cheese over the lasagne before popping it into the oven, feeling the knots of tension in his own muscles. Maybe he should take his own advice and run through a Kata or two before dinner. Picking up the Katana he made his way towards the storeroom where there was more space to work out.

Only to stop dead when he felt the unmistakable buzz of another Immortal.

"Connor?" he called softly.

Nothing.

Taking a firmer grip on his sword he made his way out towards the alley, his gaze turning unerringly to the area where Tessa's Merceedes was parked.

"Slan?" He challenged.

A muffled curse and the unmistakable sound of someone's head hitting something metal wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. Shaking his head he put up the Katana and walked over to the car.

"Get out of there." He demanded in exasperation.

"Don't shoot, .. or stab .. or anything, right?" Ryan's voice urged.

"Just come out."

"Alright, I'm comin." Ryan groused, as first one stocking foot and then another were slowly followed by the rest of him. Reading the wary look in his eyes Duncan took a step back, giving him the space to climb to his feet.

Duncan rocked slightly back on his heels as he asked in a conversational tone. "Want to tell me what on earth you are doing here?"

"Not really."

Duncan sighed. He supposed he had left himself open to that.

"Tell me anyway."

"If you must know I was fixing the stick shift," Ryan waved at the small selection of tools scattered on the ground. "All it needed was a bit of realignment, a spot of oil, should be as good as new. Better than new actually." He boasted.

"Why?"

"This is a classy ride." Ryan shrugged, as if that was explanation enough.

"And Tessa is a classy lady." Duncan offered, guessing that her kindess had touched the boy more than she realised.

"Oh yeah, she's hot," Ryan agreed, before his face fell. "Um, I mean not like I've noticed, or anything, I mean she is but .."

"Richie," Duncan rolled his eyes. "Relax, alright? I know what you mean."

"I guess you would." The boy retorted with a leering grin.

For pity's sake did the boy have _no _sense of preservation? If he mouthed off like that to another Immortal hewould be dead before he knew it. And he was far too yong to become Immortal. The very thought made Duncan sick to his stomach as he advanced on the hapless teen.

"You watch your mouth!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew it was a mistake. The boys eyes widened with genuine fear as the blood drained from his features in the face of the Scot's all too evident wrath.

"I'm sorry," Duncan admitted, aware that his apology sounded at least as awkard as he felt. "I didn't mean .." He trailed off.

"S'OK," Ryan looked at him slightly uncertainly. "Its your turf."

Duncan sighed as he looked the lad up and down. Tessa was right, that jacket was far too thin for the winter months and as for his shoes. He blinked and scanned the surrounding area.

"What happened to your shoes?"

His only answer was a silent shrug.

"Oh for Lord's sake," Duncan pointed a forbidding finger at the boy. "Stay there. Do NOT move. Alright?"

"Whatever." Ryan rolled his eyes.

Duncan paused. If the lad had any sense he'd hot foot it out of there as soon as his back was turned.

"Your word on it." he demanded.

"My word?" Ryan raised his eybrows. "You mean like you want me to promise?"

"Uh huh."

"What makes you think it'll make any difference? If I want outta here, I'm gone." Ryan warned.

"Not if you've given your word." Duncan spoke with absolute certainty.

"Shows what you know." Ryan scowled.

Duncan thought he was more right than the boy wanted to admit and he hoped that by showing a little faith in him he could make up some ground from his earlier outburst.

"If I'm so wrong, why are you even arguing about it?" He played his trump card.

"Oh man," Ryan muttered. "I am so going to regret this. Alright. I promise. But this better be good."

Duncan was taking a risk, he knew. Still, he couldn't resist a small flicker of satisfaction, when he returned to see the boy waiting impatiently exactly where he had left him.

"Here." he held out the carrier bag.

"What is it?" Ryan made no move to take it.

"Payment," Duncan nodded at the Mercedess. "For the car."

* * *

"What do you think happened to his shoes?" Tessa worried, as still wrapped in her dressing gown, she put the bread on the table.

"I have no idea," Duncan pulled the lasagne out of the oven. "Maybe, he lost them in a basket ball game or something."

"I hope he is alright. I wish you could have persauded him to stay for dinner."

"He has his own family sweetheart, they'll be expecting him."

"I suppose so."

They sat down to eat, the soft click of cutlery on china or the occasional click of glass against glass the only sounds. At last Duncan put down his fork.

"Are you really that worried about him?"

"Yes. No. Oh, I don't know," Tessa looked across at him. "Perhaps, I am over reacting."

After all, when he had taken his shirt off the other day she had seen no signs of abuse and she supposed that there would have been something if this man had been in any way violent.

"Its just there is something about him." she admitted.

"I know," Duncan's rueful agreement surprised her. "But we've discussed this sweetheart, it is too dangerous to bring a child into our lives."

"But it is not like he is a child, he is older, he could understand."

"About Immortals?" Duncan shook his head. "Its not fair to burden him with that and its not safe. For us or for him. Especially now."

Tessa wanted to deny that. But she could not.

"This Slan, you must kill him, non?" she asked softly.

"Its what we do."

"And you would not walk away now, even if you could." She sighed.

"He came into my home. He threatened my family."

"What about Richie?" Tessa asked suddenly, her eyes wide. "He was here the other night. What if Slan goes after him?"

"He won't. He's not part of this."

"How can you be so sure?" Tessa worried.

Because only the most evil of their kind targeted the pre-immortal and, scum though he was, Slan wasn't in that league. Right now Duncan was far more concerned about Tessa, Slan was just vicious enough to see mere mortals as fair game. If Ryan kept his head down and his mouth shut he should be safe enough.

"Because I am." Duncan smiled.

Besides, the last thing he needed was to have the lad underfoot whilst he was head hunting. He didn't even want to think about the turn the conversation would take if Ryan happened to be on hand when he took Slan's head.

It didn't bear thinking about.


	4. Chapter 4

AN - Thanks everyone for the reviews, sorry about any spelling mistakes, my computer has gone into meltdown and I only have this basic WP with no spell check, but wanted to update this as much as I could while I have a little time ...

* * *

Afterwards, Duncan's only excuse was that the very last thing he expected to see when he looked up from beheading Slan Quince was the awed .. and appalled .. look on Richie Ryan's face. 

"Chill man," he stuttered. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Knowing he had no choice but to do just that if he was to rescue his mentor's body before it drifted beyong reach, Duncan was forced to abandon him on the bridge with the headless corpse. Diving into the water, it took sufficent time to locate the body that it was past sunrise when the elder Scot finally spluttered back to life.

"I know this won't come as a surprise," Duncan managed dryly. "But you'll live."

"I should have known it, you're never on time. Slan?"

"I handled it."

Unwittingly, his eyes tracked up to where he could stilll see the teenager, crouching in the long grass. He just knew the horrified expression on Ryan's face would haunt his nightmares. Lord only knew what the expereince would do to the impressionable lad.

"What about the boy?" Connor followed his gaze. "He'll need watching."

"Don't you think he's seen enough already? How the hell did he get here anyway?"

It didn't seem possible. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the lad for the last week. Not since he had given him the shoes. How had he manged to be so spectacularly in the wrong place at the very worst time?

"I'd say he followed us," Connor shrugged, as he hauled himself to his feet. "Does it matter?"

"Connor, he saw me take Slan's head, the Quickening, he saw _everything_. Dear God, he's just watched you die and pop right back up again! I'd say that matters."

"Well, I suppose, you could always tell him it was America's funniest home videos after all."

"This isn't funny kinsman, if you had seen the look on his face .."

"Then we tell him the truth." Connor surprised him.

"That's not what we do." Duncan stopped short to stare at his mentor.

"Not usually," Connor agreed. "But you're going to have to explain it all one day. Better perhaps not to begin with the boy thinking you're naught but a cold blooded murderer."

"Gee, thanks." Duncan said coldly.

Together they turned to walk up the bank towards where the lad was hiding.

"He's going to run, isn't he?" Duncan realised.

"If he has any sense."

"We'd better split up then."

* * *

They were going to kill him. Richie knew that. He'd seen Jason in the hockey mask kill Sir Lancelot. Then Macloed had killed him and not in the normal way with a gun or a knife or something, but like some kinda ritual, lopped his head right off with a sword. Course, turned out Sir Lancelot wasn't actually dead. Not permanently. But he was pretty sure Jason was toast. 

Which meant he .. the star witness on the evening news .. was a goner as well.

He had always figured he'd check out early. It was just the way it was where he came from. But he hadn't planned on it being quite so soon. And he dammed well wasn't going down without a fight. He figured he probably knew this part of town better than Macloed and Sir Lancelot was from outta town.

So, he ran.

He was a sprinter, he could take off fast and put enough distance between him and the portly beat cops to keep one step ahead of trouble, most of the time. But his stamina wasn't so hot, already his chest was starting to burn and Sir Lancelot was right there on his heels.

Shit.

Where the hell was Macloed?

He turned around a corner and the Antique Store owner was right in his path, blocking his way. How the _hell_ had he got in front of him?

He ducked right, intent on getting to shops and people as soon as possible. They couldn't off him in a crowd, right? Over the gate, down the alley, up over the rooftops, God his chest hurt and his legs were starting to burn. Not far now, he could see the awnings of the trendy street market held down by the docks. Just a little further. He just had to jump this gap to the next building and there was a fire escape on the other side that would take him right down onto the street.

No biggie.

He'd done it before.

Just.

Course, he hadn't been running for a good twenty minutes at the time. Also he'd been a few years younger and a couple of pounds lighter. And Gary had been there on the other side to catch him when he slipped. Otherwise, he would have fallen. And it was a _helluva_ long way down to the sidewalk.

Gary wasn't here right now.

He could make it.

He had to.

He gathered himself together and got ready to jump.

The weight hit him from behind like George Henderson, the High School star quarterback. He went down hard, grazing hands and knees on the hard, gritty, surface, feeling the burning pain as the irate voice bellowed in his ears.

"What is wrong with you?"

He tensed and waited for Macloed to start bashing his head against the concrete, instead the Scot swore softly in some language he didn't recognise. Which was saying something as he could cuss in a wholebunch of languages. Then he was flipped over onto his back and one hand was tilting his chin up.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Not quite sure yet whether his current state of being alive and breathing was gonna come to an end anytime soon for once Richie wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Richie, can you hear me? Open your eyes."

OK, so maybe if he thought he was already dead, he might just get out of this alive. He had held his breath long enough to make Sister Catherine give him extra pudding in kindergarten. He could do this.

"Dammit, don't you dare die on me."

The voice swore fervently. Then Richie felt his head being tipped back and his mouth being opened.

Okay, too much.

"Whoa, hey get off me." Richie pushed hard at the surprised Scot and scooted back out of reach.

"You were holding your breath." Macloed accused.

"So, sue me."

On top of the adenalin already coursing through his veins, followed by the shock of thinking Ryan wasn't breathing, the glib answer was almost more thanDuncan couldbear. Clenching his hands into fists he turned his back.

Watching Ryan's face fall Connor spoke kindly.

"No-one wants to harm you lad. We just thought you might have a few questions?"

"Who me?" Richie croaked. Even to him, his voice sounded odd. "No way, I never saw anything. No way. Honest."

"Nothing?" Sir Lancelot's light tone was subtly dangerous.

"Alright, alright," Richie amended hastily. "So I saw something. But it wasn't anything, you know? I mean, nothing I would go to the cops about or anything."

"You don't think a man's life is worth justice?" Macloed spoke without turning, his tone harsh.

Ryan visably flinched, still he raillied fast as he shot back. "Hey, you were the one who acted as judge, jury and executioner."

"Was he wrong?" Connor interjected smoothly, before Duncan could rise to that bait.

Richie considered that. The dude had threatened Tessa and he was pretty sure that the sneaky missile thing he had used was some kind of cheating. So, that made him scum alright. Still.

"You didn't have to _kill_ him." he protested softly

"Yes," Duncan spoke without explanation. "I did."

"Ahem," Connor cut in. "Before we get into that could we find me some dry clothes?"

In spite of himself Richie quirked a brow.

"You can come back from the dead and you're worried about catching a chill?"

"I have to leave," Duncan annouced abruptly turning back, but avoiding his mentor's eye."Tessa will be worried."

* * *

The following day Duncan was sitting in the office, going through some invoices when he felt the buzz of an Immortal prescence. He didn't look up. 

"I taught you better than that." Connor's tone was cold.

"I know where my sword is."

"I didn't mean that."

"Tessa's sleeping," Duncan stood up, apparently unconcerned and put one of the files in a drawer. "I'd rather you didn't wake her. These last few days have been rough on her. I'm planning on taking her up to the cabin for a few days to recouperate."

"And what about the boy?"

Duncan stilled. "How did he take it?"

"Telling him was your job, Duncan."

"I had to get back to Tessa," Duncan wouldn't look at him.

"That lad is your responsibility."

"No, _Tessa,_ is my responsibility. And I can't protect her and the boy. You know that!"

"Duncan, this isn't like Little Deer .."

"Slan was here, in our home," Duncan's voice rose. "He threatened Tessa. He wanted to hurt her, because of me, because of what I am. Tell me how that's different."

"You know how! You know what Richie is and what he will be. Or are you just thinking you'd leave him for the likes of Kalas to stumble across?"

Ducan's head came up sharply, his eyes wide and worried.

"I thought you would .."

"Duncan, the boy lives here. This city is his home. Dragging him right across the country will do him no good. I'm not asking you to adopt him. Just be a friend."

"Alright, I'll keep an eye on him." Duncan conceeded.

"You'll do better than that, or I'll want to know the reason why," Connor fixed him with a steady gaze. "He's in Room 234 at the Seacouver Hilton. The room's paid up until the end of the week."

"What's he doing there?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

* * *

Duncan frowned as he knocked on the door of Room 234. He couldn't imagine was his kinsman was thinking of. The boy was probably lording it up with his friends, raiding the mini bar, ordering room service and watching all the pay to view movies 

"Who's there?"

The anxious tone made him blink.

"Macloed."

"Shit, the other one," the muttered comment came clearly through the thin door. Then a little louder. "What do you want?"

"I want you to open the door." Duncan was exasperated. An elderly couple making their way down the corridor gave him a curious look. Duncan pasted on his most sincere and trustworthy smile until they disappeared into their room.

"Why?" Ryan insisted.

"Oh for Lord's sake." Checking the coast was clear Duncan pulled out his credit card and swiftly worked the latch, only to find that the boy had set the dead bolt. He paused. Sighed. Set his shoulder to the door and broke it down.

"Shit!" Ryan backed away from him, into the room, his eyes wide.

"What's her name?" Duncan asked in a dangerously conversational tone, as he checked the small bathroom, wardrobe, before moving into the room and circling around a very jumpy loking Ryan to check the balacony. Nothing. Glancing around the room he saw it was unexpectedly tidy. A bottle of Coke on the dresser, an empty pizza box in the bin and a few bags on the table.

"Satisfied?" Ryan challenged.

Duncan looked him up and down, with his hair freshly washed he looked somehow younger. Pity the same couldn't be said for his clothes, which even clean and pressed looked threadbere and tired. Come to think of it those were the same closed he had been wearing in the alley when he had .. He blinked.

"What happened to your shoes?"

"W what?" The question was so unexpected, Richie felt the heat rise in his face before he had a chance to compose himself, as he tried to tuck the worn and too large sneakers he had borrowed from Gary out of the Immortal's line of sight.

"Your shoes. What happened to them?"

"I .. um .. lent them to a friend." Richie improvised.

"You pawned them." Duncan realised.

"Hey, they were mine," Richie insisted. "You gave them to me."

"To wear on your feet."

"Yeah, well, not my colour y'know."

Despite his bravardo Ryan's guilty glance towards the pizza box told Duncan rather more than he needed to know. With an easy stride he walked over to the waste bin and picked up the box. It was a cheap local chain.

"You could have ordered room service."

"At those prices?" Richie scoffed. "No way. Have you seen what they charge for a sandwich?"

Duncan straightened, his surprise mixing with a degree of consternation.

"Connor told you he would pay."

"Yeah well, I ain't gonna stiff him like that. He already did too much," Ryan looked away. "Its not like I can pay him back or anything.".

Duncan sighed. The room, the laundry, most likely a good dinner last night and the few bits and pieces Connor had bought for the lad didn't in truth amount to all _that_ much.

"Have you called your foster parents? Let them know that you're alright?"

A swift, stark look.

"Connor didn't tell you?"

"No, " Duncan felt his stomach tighten. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

* * *

"_Richie_," When the lad finally fell silent. Duncan scrubbed at his face. Lord knows he didn't want to see the lad out on the streets. Then again he didn't feel right about leaving him here all alone either. "Look, don't you have any friends you could stay with?" 

"I don't like to wear out my welcome." Ryan gave an awkward shrug.

"What about if I arrnaged a temporary foster placement?"

"Gee, why don't you just put me in the workhouse?"

"Alright," In spite of himself Duncan gave a wry smile. "No gruel."

"Look, its only a week," Richie bargained. "After that I can move into the Garage," He paused. "I mean, I still have a job, and everything, right?"

"Of course." Duncan reassured him.

"So, we're sweet, right?"

Maybe it would be alright. It was only a week after all.

Except he'd already turned his back on the lad once before. He knew Richie wasn't eating well. And if his pale, pinched expression was anything to go by he wasn't sleeping well either. And he'd been downright scared when the Immortal had come knocking at the door. And all of that was his fault.

No, leaving him alone was not an option.

"I have another idea. How does a little vacation sound?"

"Is this one of those send the underpriviledged kids to Disneyland, things?" Ryan scoffed. "Cos, I gotta tell you I always preferred Las Vegas."

Duncan hid his grin. Maybe one day.

"No," He sobered. "But I think it might be a good idea for us all to get out of dodge for a while."

"This isn't over, huh?" Ryan asked quietly.

"No." Duncan't didn't elaborate.

"So, you guys really gotta whack each other until there's only one left?" Richie ventured.

"So, it appears."

"Man, that sucks."

* * *

Duncan settled himself on the bed and watched as Ryan gathered together his meagre possesions. The lad cast a troubled look at the stiff new carrier bags. 

"Um, I was going to return those."

"I think Connor wanted you to have them," Duncan quirked a small smile. "And he'll probably ask."

"You think?"

"I've known him a long time."

"I'll bet," Richie muttered, then flinched.

"I'm not your enemy," Duncan tried to reassure.

"No, Connor said you're one of the good guys," Richie wouldn't look at him. "Its just .. " he faltered.

"Give it time."

Richie risked a small grin. "Easy for you to say."

"Pack." Duncan smiled back.

"Um, I think that's everything."

"What about the rest of your stuff," Duncan stood up. "Do you want to swing buy and pick that up?"

"You Macloeds really aren't the sharing type are you?" Richie sighed. "Max threw all my stuff out."

"Everything?" Duncan frowned.

Richie hitched one shoulder wordlessly in reply.

"Anything else I should know while we're about it?"

"Let's see," Ryan tipped his head on one side. "I hate broccalli."

"Duely noted," Duncan nodded. "Come on then, Tessa will be waiting."

"Um, where exactly are we going?"

"Camping."

Richie stopped short, his face a study in absolute horror.

"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me."


	5. Chapter 5

AN - Thanks to everyone for the reviews. I'll try to keep updating as often as work allows.

* * *

"Tessa, you talk to him," Duncan demanded as he strode back into the apartment, a very unwilling looking Richie trailing in his wake.

"What is wrong?"

"I don't know! I asked him to come to the Island with us. Most people," Duncan glared at the sullen teen. "would be excited at the idea of an all expenses paid vacation."

"Cooking on a bonfire and sleeping on the ground?" Richie sniped. "You can do that any night at the 23rd Street underpass for nada."

"Fine," Duncan shot back. "I'll drop you off on our way past."

"You will do nothing of the sort, Duncan Macloed!" Tessa gave him a little push. "You will go put our bags in the car."

"Since when did I become your servant?" The Scot huffed, his accent thickening, even as he picked up one of the holdals piled by the kitchen island, tucking it under his arm, making a face at the weight of it before picking the two remaining bags up, one in each hand, before tucking, after no small difficultly, a small black leather holdall, under his other arm. "An' I thought we travelling light."

"Four bags are not so much."

Halfway across the room already Duncan turned to look at her, incredolous. "These are _all_ yours?"

"Of course not! There are a few bits for you in one of them." Tessa shrugged vaugely.

Duncan stomped off, muttering under his breath.

"You think that's such a good idea?" Richie spoke up.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothin'" Richie shrugged. "I'm just saying."

"I don't understand. You have said nothing." Tessa wrinkled her nose at the idom.

"No, I meant," Richie sighed, then ploughed on regardless. Tessa had been real good to him, he'd hate to see anything happen to her. "I mean, the dude has a really sharp sword."

"Oh Richie," Tessa's hand, soft as it cupped his cheek, was a surprise. "Is that what you are afraid of?"

"Me?" Richie backed away, shaking his head. "Hey, this ain't about me."

"Isn't it?"

* * *

Duncan glanced in the rear view mirror as he changed lanes, exiting the freeway to set the T-Bird's nose on the track that would, eventually, lead then to the cabin. In the back seat Richie, eyes half closed, lip synched along to whatever it was he was listening to on Tessa's Walkman.

"Alright, what did you say to him?"

_"Pardon?" _Tessa looked up from her magazine.

"Richie," Duncan switched to French. "What did you say to him?"

"Oh," Tessa replied in kind. "I told him that the cabin is actually very comfortable."

"So, he came for the ensuite bathroom and the little chocolate on his pillow?" Duncan scoffed.

Tessa smiled evily.

"I also told him that he could play the stereo as loud as he liked."

"What?" Duncan actually caused the T-Bird to swerve slightly, hastily correcting his steering before he stared at Tessa in consternation.

"Well, it's not as if we have any neighbours," The Frenchwoman shrugged. "Besides, what else is he going to do when we are ... otherwise occupied?"

"Its been a fair few months since we've been to the cabin, I'm sure I can find him a few chores."

"Is this not supposed to be his vacation too?"

"Vacation from what?" Duncan shook his head. "Breaking and entering?"

"That is unkind," Tessa assured him loftily. "He is a reformed character."

"Uh, huh, and he told you this did he?" Despite himself Duncan felt a smile tug at his lips. How many times had he heard Amanda say exactly the same thing?

"Actually, he would tell me very little," Tessa admitted, as she bit her lip. "But I can guess."

"Tess?"

"He was afraid, Duncan, I could see it in his eyes."

"So, why did he agree to come?"

"I don't know," Tessa shrugged lightly, the casual gesture at odds with the worry in her eyes. "Perhaps, he was even more frightened of being left behind?"

* * *

"No way in hell," Richie came to a dead halt on the edge of the jetty as he caught sight of the two waiting canoes. "I am not getting into one of those things."

"Then you'll have a long swim." Duncan informed him shortly.

""Don't worry, Richie," Tessa soothed. "I have done it hundreds of times. It is perfectly safe."

"Tessa, its _moving_ and there's water in the bottom, now I don't know I whole lot about boats, but I'm pretty sure that's not a good thing."

"Its not a boat," Duncan informed him, as he loaded the rest of Tessa's bags. "Its a canoe and people have used then to safely navigate these waters for hundreds of years."

"Then maybe its time you traded it in for something with an engine."

"Here," Duncan threw his small holdal at him, which Richie quickly clutched to his chest. Inwardly, Duncan smiled approvingly, the lad had good reflexes. He indicated the second canoe. "You can ride with the bags."

"On my own?" Richie blanched stark white. "What if it floats off or something?"

"They're roped together."

"I will ride the bags," Tessa cut in. "You can go with Duncan."

"Oh, yeah," Richie muttered, eying the Scot uncertainly. "That's _so_ much better."

"Grab a paddle." Duncan rolled his eyes. At this rate they wouldn't get there before nightfall.

Richie looked at it.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Duncan couldn't help it. He knew it was childish and Connor would have his guts for garters, for not making more of an effort to bond with the boy. Still he smirked.

"That's your engine."

Richie tipped his head on one side and looked at him for a long moment, then unexpectedly broke into a brillant smile.

"I get to drive? Cool!" Seizing the paddle he clamboured carefully down into the canoe, only to pause and look around uncertainly. "Um, which way?"

"Sit here," Duncan stepped over easily, to stand behind the lad, reaching around him to steady the paddle with one hand. "Put one hand here, and the other here, alright now bring it down a bit and you're set."

_"Like this?" Kahani looked up at him, his eyes earnestly seeking his approval._

The memory hit him like a physical blow, swiftly followed by the image of the boy's body lying broken and lifeless in the dirt, sending waves of bitter nausea bubbling up in his throat.

"Mac? What's wrong?" Tessa's gentle voice came as if from a long way off.

"Nothing," Duncan answered shortly, before seating himself in the prow, where he wouldn't have to look at the boy. "We'd better get going."

* * *

Later that night he carefully extricated himself from Tessa's arms, gently moving her aside without waking her with the ease of long practice, before shrugging into his robe and wandering out onto the veranda that ran around the cabin

What the hell had he been thinking?

He should have left the lad well enough alone. Connor had left him well provided for and the chances of Slan or any Immortal seeking him out were slim indeed. If anything Duncan had made him more of a target by taking him under his wing. If it became know that he was the Highlander's protege Immortals would be crawling out of the woodwork to use him against the Scot.

"Duncan?"

Tessa's soft voice came from behind him, followed by the sound of her footfalls as shemoved to stand beside him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. Giving a comfort that he did not deserve.

"You can make it up to him in the morning." she murmured.

He closed his eyes against the certainly in her tone. Trying to escape from the unwelcome flood of memories he had set a fast pace to the Island, ignoring Richie's increasingly laboured attempts to keep up. Until the teen, nursing his aching shoulders, had thrown down his paddle in disgust.

"_Screw you, Macloed!_"

Things had gone from bad to worse after that. Determined to keep the lad at arm's length Duncan had all but ignored him, except to issue orders in a terse voice that invited no further discussion. For his part the teen had shot him looks like thunder and gone about his bidding with as much noise and bluster as he could manage. He suspected that only Tessa's gentle touches and murmured words, had kept Richie from outright rebellion.

"I'm taking him back to Seacouver in the morning."

He turned away from Tessa before he could see the censure in her eyes. Knowing that he didn't have the words to explain this to her. She saw a scared and vulnerable child, desperately clinging to his bravardo, as he was plunged into a world of violence and death beyond anything his time on the streets had prepared him for. She would see his action as a betrayal.

How could he tell her he was just trying to keep him safe?

Which, until he was safely immortal and legitimately part of this world, was about as far away from him as he could get.

"And what about me?" Tessa asked with an edge to her tone. "Will you push me away also?"

He lifted his head, not daring to look at her as he searched for the words. "Tess, its not like that .."

The high pitched scream of terror that cut throught the night had them whirling to face one another, Tessa's eyes widening with shock and fear, even as Duncan realised that he had left the Katana precious seconds away in the bedroom. With a muttered curse he prayed to the patron saint of dim witted Scots that the rule about no fighting or killing on Holy Ground equally applied to the pre-immortal. Not to mention no kidnapping or hostage taking.

"Stay behind me." Duncan ordered.

* * *

Together they ran to the guest room, presently occupied by the teenager. Feeling only Richie's pre-immortal buzz, Duncan flung open the door and rapidly scanned the room.

"Richie?" Tessa called anxiously, peering over his shoulder.

The bed was in disarry, the sheets tangled as if there had been a tussle, or a nightmare. Yet the room itself appeared deserted. A quick glance at the window showed it was firmly shut, despite the warm late summer night. The wardrobe door was wide open, showing the boy's few meagre belongings still neatly folded inside.

"Richie?" Duncan repeated, as he honed in on the pre-immortal buzz coming from the small en-suite bathroom on the far side of the room.

"Don't!" There was no mistaking the terror in Richie's voice. "Don't come in here."

"Richie," Duncan spoke calmly. "What's wrong?"

"Its nothing," The boy almost squeaked. "Eveything's fine here. Um. You can go back to bed, or whatever you were doing .. um not that I think that you were doing anything, not that it is any of my business if you were, I mean, you're both adults .."

"Richie, I'm coming in." Duncan told him.

"_Oh shit!_"

He almost smiled as he heard some frantic rustling. Which was nothing to the broad grin that spread across his face when he entered the bathroom to see him looking standing on a chair, looking positively deshevelled brandishing a shoe in the direction of a very surprised looking squirrel.

"Tell me its not like poisionous or anything, right?" Richie begged.

Duncan blinked. Was he serious?

"Richie, its a squirrel."

"Yeah, so that's like a rodent, right and they can get rabies and stuff can't they?"

Duncan's head came up sharply at that.

"Did it bite you?"

"I don't know! I was too busy getting outta the way!"

"Alright, just stay there," Duncan looked around and picked up the waste basket and a bath brush. His eyes wide, Richie watched the Immortal's every move with mesmerised fascination, as he used the bath brush to shepherd the squirrel into the temporary receptical, before opening the window and releasing it.

"You're just letting it go?" Richie protested as he climbed down off the chair. "What if it comes back?"

"What were you going to do?" Duncan gestured at the shoe. "Dance with it?"

He regretted his sarcasm as a deep crimson blush spread up the teens neck and covered his face. Looking at him more closely Duncan noted he had apparently slept in his clothes and for some reason was wearing a towel around his fully dressed middle. Duncan wouldn't have thought it was possible but, seeing the direction of his gaze, Richie's blush got even deeper.

"I um .. er. was about to take a bath." He defended his attire.

"A bath?"

"Yeah, a bath."

Macloed's eyes narrowed and Richie's stomach lurched, sure that he had been sprung. From the bedroom, Tessa's voice called.

"Duncan? Is everything alright?"

Richie closed his eyes. This was it. If Macloed had worked it out then he would tell Tessa and his life would be offically over.

"Everything's fine sweetheart, why don't you go bakc to bed?" The Scot called.

Richie's eyes popped back open, only to find the Immortal regarding him with a totally unreadable expression.

"Don't use all the hot water."

* * *

Richie stayed in the bath, until his fingers were wrinkled and his skin tinged with pink. Only when he could no longer put it off, did he haul himself out of the rapidly cooling water. Drying himself off he wrapped the towel around his wast before casting a gloomy look at the pile of soiled clothes on the floor. Those jeans had been almost new. Gritting his teeth he picked them up and hung them out of the window, maybe the fresh air would help the smell some until he could get them to a lauderette. Giving his T-shirt a cautious sniff he quickly put that outside as well.

Bracing himself he pulled open the bedroom door, only to come to a startled halt at the sight of the freshly made bed. Unwilling to believe the evidence of his own eyes, he pulled back the covers and ran a disbelieving hand across the smooth, clean surface. Feeling someone watching him he looked up to see Macloed standing in the doorway, with a mug in each hand.

"You changed the sheets."

"There's still some room in the washing machine if you want to salvege those jeans." The Immortal offered neutrally as he placed one of the mugs on the dresser and took a sip from the other.

"Um, that's OK. They're kinda gross."

"Remind me to tell you about my time as a gong scourer," Duncan observed conversationally as he wandered into the bathroom and gathered up the jeans and T-shirt from where they were hanging in the window. "Drink your hot choocolate before it gets cold." he tossed over his shoulder as he headed back off to the utility room.

Richie slipped into the smooth, soft, bed, pulling the comforter right up to his chin. He looked over at the mug of Hot Chocolate. Maybe, he should just close his eyes and pretend to be asleep when Macloed came back.

Except, that would just be postponding the inevitable.

Still, sincehe didn't actually want to face this anytime soon, the idea had a certain appeal.

"Its got marshmalows in it." Duncan's voice prompted as he returned to pull up a chair next to the bed.

"Sorry," Richie dutifully picked up the mug. "So, are you gonna yell now or later?"

"Richie, these things happen." The sympathy in the Immortal's tone surprised him.

"Yeah, when you're in kindergarten." Richie looked away, feeling the shame of it buring his face.

"Is that what you think?" Macloed shook his head. "I've seen battle hardened warriors lose control of their bladders over less than you've endured these last few weeks. Its a natural reaction to stress."

"I don't see you wetting your pants."

"Let's just say in four hundred years some of my girlfriends have had to be very understanding." Macloed made a face.

"Oh."

"So," Macloed asked almost too casually. "It might help to talk about it."

"What?"

"Whatever the nightmare was about?"

"Oh." Richie quickly buried his face in his mug. He figured he had already had his quota of embarrassment for this millenium. No way in hell was he going to admit the truth. Anything had to be better than that.

"Is it me?" Macloed asked softly. "Are you afraid of me, because you saw me kill Slan?"

Anything except maybe that.


	6. Chapter 6

AN – Many thanks as ever for all your reviews. It means a lot to know what you think of the story and its progress. By the way a gong scourer (from the last chapter) was the person paid to empty the cess pits in Tudor times. Not a pleasant job!

* * *

Richie studied his mug intently as the small lumps of marshmallow melted into foamy gloop on the top of the Hot Chocolate, just the way he liked it. He could lie. The whole swords and Immortals thing was so _way _out there, if he said he was scared shitless Macleod would believe him. It wouldn't exactly be a lie. He _was _scared as hell. 

Just not of Immortals.

"Its not you."

"Are you sure?" Macleod didn't sound convinced.

"If you were gonna off me, you would have done it on the bridge, right?" Richie looked up at him." You wouldn't have dragged me out here in front of half a dozen witnesses."

Duncan sat back a little, surprised at his insight. He had certainly made an impression on that waitress at the diner. Not to mention the owner's daughter at the gas station and the store clerk at the supply store. If he had wanted to kill the boy he wouldn't have left so obvious a trail, still, the terror in his eyes as he had watched him take Slan's head and his Quickening had been genuine enough.

"I need you to know. I don't just kill people."

"What?" Richie looked at him. "You mean, there has to be a full moon or something?"

"Connor told you," Duncan realised. "About the Game."

"Among other things." Richie smirked into his mug.

"What?" Duncan was wary.

"Did you really end up buck naked in the middle of the Countess's ballroom in front of all her guests?"

Even after more than three hundred years Duncan felt the embarrassment burn in his face at that particular memory. He had been young in his Immortality and his impetuousness had led him to make a right royal fool of himself. Still if a few embarrassing stories helped to ally the lad's fears of him then it was small price to pay.

"There was a misunderstanding."

"I'll bet."

Noting that his drink was almost empty, he nodded at Richie's mug.

"You finished with that?"

"Yeah, thanks." Richie handed over the mug. As Duncan walked towards the door he called out. "You know, you're a whole lot nicer to be around when you don't have a stick up your arse."

Duncan paused, a mug in each hand, not letting the lad see him smile at his impudent assessment of his earlier manner.

"Go to sleep."

"Yessir, whatever you say sir, right away sir .." echoed down the corridor after him.

* * *

Next morning the ear splitting noise of the axe cracking through the logs echoed out again and again across the water. But, lost in the rhythm and exercise of his task, Duncan barely registered the sound. Drenched in sweat and with muscles aching he didn't so much as pause as piece after piece was added to the already mountainous pile of kindling. Even the soft buzz of the pre-immortal didn't cause him to flick even a glance in the teen's direction. 

Richie observed him silently, his hands in his pockets, wondering whether he should just turn back the way he had come. Except, that didn't seem like such a good idea right now either.

"So, you and Tessa have a fight?"

That earned him a short, dark, look, but then the Immortal went right on back to his task.

"I only ask cos she's in there wearing a hole in the floor with her pacing and you're out here slicing for Scotland."

"Its none of your business." Duncan growled.

"So, you did have a fight." Richie nodded to himself.

Duncan raised the axe above his head and sank it into the block so deeply that even after he let go the handle shuddered with the vibration. He wiped his hands on his jeans before giving the boy his full attention.

"Leave it alone, Richie."

"Hey, maybe I can help. I mean, this Immortal stuff is pretty new to me too," At Duncan's piercing look he shrugged in apology and explanation. "You guys were yelling pretty loud last night."

"You speak French?"

"Nah," Richie gave him a lop-sided grin. "Just a lucky guess."

Duncan shook his head. The lad was a smooth talker and no mistake. He didn't think for a minute that he could help him resolve this. But it wouldn't hurt him to have a heads up on the complications of Immortality. He sat down on the steps leading up to the veranda and waited for the boy to settle beside him.

"Tessa thinks I'm going to leave her."

It had, in fact, been by far the worst fight they had ever had. In his reluctance to draw Richie into the dangers of the Game, Tessa had seen his unwillingness to marry her, to adopt the children she longed for and all at once it seemed to her that the love they had built was hanging by a thread, that could be severed at any moment by the swift slice of a sword.

"What!" Richie looked genuinely shocked. "But you guys are great together. I mean you are made for each other. You can't leave her."

"I should," Duncan sighed. "These past twelve years I've done my best to keep out of the Game. If I've been forced to take a Challenge I've shielded her from it. Now she's a target and I can't protect her. It doesn't matter what I do it doesn't matter how much I love her or how hard I try - I just can't."

"And you'd just walk. Without even _asking _her?" Richie was incredulous.

"Maybe it would be for the best," Duncan gave a half-hearted shrug. "At least she'd be alive."

"That is such a load of crap."

"Hey!"

"Would you listen to yourself? You love her so you're just gonna disappear? What's that gonna do to the rest of her life? Always wondering why she wasn't good enough for you to want to stick around? Always thinking that maybe it was her fault. That if she'd been stronger or smarter or just plain different maybe you could have made it work."

The bitterness in his tone drew Duncan's gaze to the anguish in his eyes. This wasn't about Tessa.

* * *

"Here," Duncan handed the teen the smaller of the two fishing rods and began to make his way up the track. 

"I dunno Macleod," The teen didn't move. "Maybe, this isn't such a good idea. You know, its not a good idea to let women brood."

"Really?"

The wry humour in the Immortal's voice made Richie blush. Alright so maybe giving relationship advice to a guy that old was a dumb move, but he was desperate here.

"Yeah, and I mean, Tess, she was pretty mad. You know what you should do. You should go in there and smooth things over. We can go fishing another time, right?"

"Richie, there is nothing to smooth over. I never said I was leaving. When she's calmed down she'll realise that. In the meantime, its too beautiful a day to waste moping around."

"Breakfast!" Richie blurted with sudden inspiration. "What about breakfast?"

"We'll catch breakfast," Duncan grinned smugly. "Nothing better than your own fresh caught fish." He turned away.

"Wait! We can't leave on an empty stomach. What if one of us fell down a mine shaft or something? We could be there for days."

"A mine shaft?" Duncan looked back over his shoulder.

"It happens," Richie was defensive. "I saw it on TV."

"There hasn't been any mining in these parts," Duncan assured him. "I think we're safe."

"But there are woods, right?" Richie eyed the surrounding foliage with suspicion. "What if we get lost?"

"We won't get lost."

"Alright .." Richie hedged. He was running out of ideas here and no way was he going to admit to the Immortal what he was really afraid of. Then he grinned. It was flawless, it was perfect and he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. "I don't know how to fish."

"That's alright. I'll teach you."

"You will?" The offer was made so easily that Richie was stunned. He wasn't the sort of kid most people wanted to spend time with. Mostly they couldn't wash their hands of him fast enough. _Just like Dad. _The thought came unbidden slicing through his defences to bring stupid, useless, tears to his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Richie's head snapped up to find Macleod standing right in front of him. His brown eyes dark with concern.

"Nothing," Richie's expression shuttered. "I'm fine."

* * *

He was also quite possibly the most stubborn person that Duncan had ever met. Two hours later and his best efforts had managed to elicit nothing more than the odd shrug or monosyllabic answer. He had refused to even look at his fishing rod and hadn't shown the slightest reaction when Duncan had reeled in his own catch. As he plucked one of the skewered fish out of the flames, he hoped at least he could tempt him to eat. 

"Here."

Richie barely spared it a glance.

"No thanks."

Losing the fight to hold on to his patience Duncan was about to tell him exactly what he thought of this foolishness, when Richie's stomach gave a loud and unmistakable rumble. Two pink spots of embarrassment appeared in the teen's pale features, but otherwise he gave no reaction.

"Richie, just eat it."

"I don't want it."

Angry now that the lad would so blatantly refuse food when his all too thin frame so obviously needed it, Duncan reached out and put the stick into his right hand, closing his fingers around it. "Eat it or I'll stuff it down your throat myself."

"No!" Unable to break his grasp free, Richie turned his head away. "I don't want it. I don't want anything from you!"

Duncan froze, feeling the blood turn to ice in his veins. Desperately he tried to recall the scant details Connor had given him about Richie's early life. Something about a foster mother who had died and a father .. he had no idea what had happened to the father. But he thought he could guess.

"Richie, I'm not trying to be your father."

The lad flinched, as if Duncan had physically struck him and the Immortal sighed, wondering how he could have screwed this up quite so badly. Connor was going to kill him.

"But I give you my word as a Macleod, I'll not abandon you."

"Yeah, you will," Richie's voice was tightly controlled. "They always do."

"Look," Duncan cast about for a way to make this right. He decided that a bit of an explanation and a whole lot of humility might go some way to patching things up. "I'm sorry I was such an ass yesterday."

"An ass, huh?" Richie glanced uncertainly at him. Not sure where this was going.

"Idiot, moron, numbskull, whatever," Duncan elaborated. "The point is, I'm sorry," He sighed. He had never spoken about this to anyone except Connor. But Richie was only a lad who didn't deserve to be pushed away for centuries old reasons that were not of his making. "You reminded me someone. He died and it was my fault. I was afraid that if I got too close to you, then you might become a target and I have no right to make that choice for you."

"Oh," Richie considered that. "I can dig that."

"You can, huh?" Duncan could hardly credit it. How could he possibly understand?

"I had this foster family once. They were real good to me. Took me in for a real long time. I thought I was gonna be there forever."

"It didn't work out." Duncan realised.

"After that, I never really bothered much. I always knew it wouldn't last." Richie shrugged.

Duncan sat up a little straighter, not bothering to hide the raw concern on his face. No child should have to grow up like that afraid to love or allow themselves to be loved.

"And now I'm too old," Richie looked at him seriously. "I'm not looking for another father Macleod."

Duncan gave a wry smile. It wasn't as if he was looking to adopt the boy. Richie would be living his own life, working at the Garage. Tessa was already fond of him. What could it hurt?

"How about a friend?" he offered his hand.

"I can do that," the soft, bashful, smile was a revelation, as Richie took his hand and shook on it. Just as Richie's stomach gave another loud rumble. This time they both laughed.

"Come on," Duncan took one look at the cold or charred remains of the fish and offered the lad a hand up. "How do you feel about pancakes?"

"Love 'em," Richie grinned. "And maybe, if you make then with whipped cream and apple pieces then Tessa will start talking to you again."

"You think, do you?" Duncan teased.

"Hey, its worth a shot!"

"So," Duncan spoke casually, as they made their way back up the track. "This is your first time out of the city, huh?"

Beside him, he felt Richie tense, as if afraid of being mocked for his terror of the wildlife and wide open spaces. But when his voice came it was apparently unconcerned.

"You finally figured that out?"

Inwardly Duncan grinned. The lad had spirit all right.

"I think it was the mine shafts," Duncan mused. "Or was it the getting lost?"

"Hey, we can't all be the outdoorsy type," Richie relaxed under the gentle teasing. "I got lost in a garden centre once."

"I'll have to teach you to track."

"You were going to teach me to fish." Richie reminded him.

"We can still do that too," Duncan smiled. "We have plenty of time."


	7. Chapter 7

AN – Many thanks as ever for the reviews, we all know where this is going to end up – but there will be a few twists and turns on the way – I wouldn't want to make it _easy_ for Richie, now would I? Grins.

* * *

Duncan had planned to stay on the Island until Richie was due to start at the Garage. He wanted some time to get to know the boy and teaching him the skills of the wilderness was a good foundation for the real life or death lessons to come. But it quickly became evident that things weren't about to work out that smoothly.

"I can't believe I almost caught a fish!" Richie enthused over breakfast. "You should have seen it Tess, it was this big!"

"How big?" Duncan asked mildly.

"This big?" Richie moved his hands in a foot or so.

"Better."

"Do you think we could ..mmpf," Richie's face twisted as he bit down awkwardly.

"That tooth still hurting you?" Duncan asked solicitously.

"No, its fine." Richie lied.

"This is why you wince every time you eat something too hard or too cold?" Tessa challenged.

"And why you have been swallowing painkillers every four hours for the last two days?" Duncan added.

"I'm sorry," Richie blushed. "I'll pay you back for the pills."

"Richie, we don't care about the pills," Tessa assured him. "We care that you are in pain."

"Its cool, once I start at the Garage I get this great healthcare plan. I promise I'll get everything checked out then."

"Everything?" Duncan sat up a little straighter. "What else?"

"Its nothing."

"Really?" Duncan's eyes narrowed. "When was your last tetanus injection?"

"I'm not sure. Look, I'll get it done."

"And if you slice yourself on a manifold on your first day?" Duncan shook his head.

"Hey, a little faith here. I'm a good mechanic."

"Anyone can have an accident, Richie." Tessa reproved gently.

Duncan supposed he should have thought about this before. As long as Richie was fit to work he doubted the lad's most recent foster father had cared much about his welfare.

"Fairfax Springs isn't that far out of our way from here," he spoke to Tessa. "I could paddle over to the Store this morning and make a call?"

"It would be nice to see Will again." Tessa agreed.

"Ain't no Doctor going to fit me in before Monday," Richie was confident.

"He's a friend." Tessa shrugged, as she stood up to clear the dishes.

"A very _old _friend." Duncan confirmed.

"Oh man," Richie's eyes widened. "I am so screwed."

* * *

The small town of Fairfax Springs was mostly one long main street, with clusters of residential housing behind. At this time of year the last of the small crowd of summer walkers were departing and the residents were bracing themselves for the winter to come. Spotting Will Stourton's office on the right hand side Duncan pulled the T-Bird into the kerb and set the parking brake.

"All set?" Duncan looked over his shoulder at Richie.

"Aren't we kinda early? Maybe we should drive round the block a few times?"

"You will be fine." Tessa soothed.

"Easy for you to say," Richie groused. "Its not you he's going to be sticking things in."

"C'mon," Duncan climbed out of the car. "I'll introduce you."

"This guy is a regular Doctor right?" Richie asked as he reluctantly followed. "You know, with certificates and stuff?"

"He studied at the Pennsylvania School of Medicine."

"Yeah? Cool," Richie was momentarily impressed. Then he frowned. "What century?"

"I'm not sure," Duncan mused. "Had they discovered anaesthetics by the 1800s?"

"Stop teasing him Duncan," Tessa scolded. "If you are worried, Richie, we will come in with you."

"Naw, Tess, you go shop," Richie allowed magnanimously. "It'll be cool."

"Alright, if you're sure," Tessa patted his arm and shot Duncan a look that clearly said 'take care of him' as she took her purse in order to buy the few provisions they needed. "I'll see you for lunch in an hour."

"An hour?" Richie looked at her retreating back in horror. "Please tell me it's not going to take an hour."

"I'm sure Will is just being generous with his time." Duncan didn't think it was a good idea to let his young friend know that he had asked Stourton to give him a thorough medical.

"So, how long have you known this guy?" Richie fished as they made their way down the small path.

"A while."

"Oh that's real informative," Richie rolled his eyes. "What are we talking here? A decade? A century? What?"

"After you." Duncan just grinned as he opened the door.

* * *

Stourton's friendly blue eyes and cheerful demeanour quickly put Richie at his ease. It was Duncan who grew gradually more and more concerned as the minutes ticked by and still he didn't return. At last, Stourton's buzz sent him to his feet.

"How is he?"

"Well, I've taken care of the basics. I filled his tooth, brought his shots up to date, you know, you really should have told him, I was qualified in multiple fields, the look on his face was priceless. Oh, and you might want to have a little talk with him about propolactics. I've prescribed him some antibiotics," He passed Duncan a slip of paper. "But that's got to have been dashed uncomfortable for him."

"Oh," Duncan felt his lips twitch. Then he looked up and saw the serious look in Stourton's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You were right to be worried."

"I wasn't before you said that."

"How much do you know about him?"

"Not enough it seems."

Stourton sighed. "I think someone's been abusing him Duncan. He has some serious bruising that can't easily be explained any other way."

"Oh?" Duncan sat up straighter.

"There's a fairly recent one on his left upper arm, he tried to tell me it was nothing, but I could see the dammed finger marks!" Stourton fumed.

"Oh," Duncan felt the colour rise in his face. "I think that might have been me."

"What?"

"I was teaching him how to track in the woods and he tripped on a tree branch, it was all I could do to catch him before he fell head first down the ravine." He defended himself.

"And the bruises on his shins, like someone had thrown him to the ground?"

"He was about to jump off a bloody building! I had to stop him somehow."

"What about that long yellow bruise on his arm? It's older than the rest but it went pretty deep and I'm dammed sure you didn't take a stick to him."

"No, that would be Tessa." Duncan winced.

"Tessa!" Stourton's eyebrows shot up.

"It was an accident. She hit him with a broom," Duncan admitted. "It's a long story."

"I give up," Stourton rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Then apart from being as thin as a Daddy Long Legs and twice as skittish the kid's fine. I'll take you to him."

* * *

Feeling bored Richie hopped off the examination table and started to play with the shiny instruments on the tray, the clicking sound and the way they caught the light a monetary distraction.

"Ouch." He protested, as a sharp edge caught his finger.

Sticking the abused digit in his mouth he wandered around the room to see what else might catch his fancy. Out the window he leant back a little to catch a better view of a pretty blonde, wandering past on the sidewalk, when he heard voices in the hallway.

"Seriously though, Duncan. Have you really thought about this? I mean, it's a big commitment and you have Tessa to consider."

"Believe me, this was mostly Tessa's idea. The last thing I was looking for was a stray teenager."

"And now you feel bound by your promise to Connor."

"He's my kinsman. And my teacher."

"He said the boy needed watching. He never said you had to be the one to do it. Look at this place. It's a nice quiet, sleepy, little town. It's like living in the 1950's except with MTV. I could call in a few favours to rustle up a job for him and there is a decent boarding house right down the street. You have to admit the boy would be a lot safer here than back in Seacover."

"Don't you believe it."

"A trouble magnet, huh? All the more reason to limit his sphere of operations."

"And what will you say to the good ladies of the Towns Women's Guild when their Peach Cobblers go missing?"

"Then I'll make like it is the 1950's and paddle his behind." Stourton laughed.

Richie leant against the door, his heart pounding in his chest, even as the blood drained from his face. Surely Macleod wasn't thinking of leaving him here? He'd thought they had a connection. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Would he?

"He'd hate it here."

"He'd get used to it," Stourton dismisse that."And least he might live to see his nineteenth birthday."

Macleod's hesitation was the only answer he needed. He had been stupid to think that the Immortal had actually wanted him around in the first place. It was so obvious. He was just being nice to him because he had promised Connor. Who, let's face it hadn't wanted to stick around either. Well, Richie decided, two could play at that game. Carefully easing the window open he stuck first one leg and then the other over the sill, before dropping lightly down onto the grass and running away as far and as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

Two weeks later Duncan Macleod frowned at the broken and rusted sign that announced he had arrived at his destination. Much as he was desperate to find the lad he really hoped that his lastest lead turned out to be a dead end. This neighbourhood was no place for any kid. A dark haired man, with a sour expression leant on the doorframe and watched as he approached.

"Something wrong with your ride, Mister?"

"I'm looking for a blonde kid. I heard he works here. Name of Richie Ryan."

"Ain't no-one called that here. Not that I rightly _recall_." The greedy light in the man's eyes as he hastened to sell out the kid to who ever was asking made Duncan's skin crawl. Fighting the urge to simply cut off the man's airways until he told him what he wanted, he pulled out his wallet and handed over $50.

"In the back." The man tipped his head.

Walking slowly into the Garage, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the gloom Duncan looked around at the obvious activity, as license plates were changed and paint jobs re-sprayed, turning as he felt the faint buzz.

"You lookin' for me?" Richie's eyes were hard. "Well, here I am."

Inwardly, Duncan sighed. He had never expected this to be easy, but the stiff set of the lad's jaw and the challenge in his eyes warned him that he would have his work cut out to make this right between them.

"I came to tell you that I'm still your friend."

"With friends like you a guy don't need no enemies."

"I tried to find you."

"You reported me missing to the Police!" Richie corrected hotly. "You know what that meant? It meant I couldn't go near a shelter cos they'd turn me in to the cops."

"Where are you living now?" Duncan worried.

"I got a place that comes with the job." Richie's tone was dismissive.

"You know this place is a front for stolen merchandise, right?"

"So?"

"So, I doubt they have a union. Or a healthcare plan." Duncan raised a brow.

"I never asked you to pay for all that Doctoring," Richie turned away and busied himself tidying some tools. "If you wanna waste your money it ain't my business."

"You think spending money on you is a _waste_?"

That got him a quick, unreadable, look. But the lad held his peace.

"You missed your birthday." Duncan nudged.

"No, I didn't, I managed to turn 18 all by myself."

"How did you get back from Fairfax Springs?" Duncan had been worrying about that. It was a four hour drive to Seacouver. There was no way the lad could have walked it.

"I hitched."

"_Richie_," The way the lad flinched meant he didn't need to tell him how dangerous that was. Duncan suspected he knew rather more than the Immortal was comfortable with about the type of people that preyed on vulnerable youngsters. "You had no call to go running off like that."

"What you going do, Macloed?" Richie sneered. "Paddle me?"

Inwardly, Duncancursed to have his worst suspicions confirmed. He would never have spoken so glibly, or allowed Stourton to do so if he had thought the boy could overhear them. No wonder he'd run. "Richie you have to believe me. I never meant to leave you there."

"Yeah, right." Richie still wouldn't look at him.

"Damn straight, right," Duncan seized him by the arm and turned him around. "Look, I'm sorry you had to overhear that but it was all Will's idea."

"Why the hell should I believe you?"

"Because I've just spent the last two weeks searching high and low for you. And I gave you my word that I'd not abandon you."

"Yeah, well, where I come from, that doesn't mean a whole lot."

"Then you've a lot to learn." Duncan's gaze was steady.

"What do you care? It was all Tessa's idea you said," Richie locked eyes with him, all his hurt and pain shuttered behind a screen of anger and disgust as he sneered. Oh, wait," he grinned, a bright, insincere, grin that Duncan just itched to slap off his face. "She's not letting you get any is she?"

"My sex life is just fine thanks," Duncan fished in his pocket and pulled out the antibiotics he had picked up and tossed them at the lad. "Which is more than I can say for yours."

By reflex Richie snagged the packet out of the air, scowling at the implied insult, until he read the label and blushed, a deep, dark, red. He had hadn't realised the Immortal knew about _that._ Indecision seized him; his lingering hurt meant he wanted nothing more than to throw them back in his face. But he'd been down to the Clinic and knew this stuff was _way _better than anything his money could buy. The fact that the Scot would bother to go and fill out the prescription even after he had made tracks was confusing.

"I don't want these." He offered them back, not making eye contact.

"Richie, just take them, _please_?" The unaccustomed note of pleading in the Immortal's voice was a surprise.

Knowing that he did, _desperately_, need the medication and that he had no other way to acquire it, Richie reluctantly caved, putting the pills in his pocket with an awkward shrug. "I guess I owe you one, huh?"

"No," The answer surprised him. "I owe you one."

* * *

"And you just_ left _him there?

Duncan briefly closed his eyes as Tessa's temper and her voice predictably rose.

"What else could I do, sweetheart? He's eighteen. Its not like I could ground him for being out past curfew."

"But this place is dangerous. With bad people, you said!"

"I know," Truth be told Duncan was more than a little anxious about that himself. Ryan had enough street smarts to keep himself ahead of the average low life. But he was still only a kid, and all the fast-talking in the world would do he no good if he found himself on the wrong end of a drug-crazed gunman. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Oh yes, that will be so helpful when he is lying dead in a gutter."

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" Her words stung his conscience. "There are laws against kidnapping people."

"There are laws against killing people also, but you seem to get around those!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them, shaking her head as she attempted to throw off her anger. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I know you're worried."

"We both are," Duncan changed the subject. "I gave him the antibiotics."

"Did he take them?"

"He wouldn't, not in front of me," Duncan shrugged. "But I'll warrant he won't hold out for long."

"Le pauvre," Tessa sighed. "To be so alone."

"He's not alone," Duncan assured her firmly. "He has us. He just doesn't know it yet."

Tessa turned to him, her eyes full of hope. "Mac?"

"Let me talk to him, Tess," Duncan strove to curb her optimism. It was _bloody _dangerous to forge too close a tie with the pre-immortal. If Connor knew he was even thinking of having him work at the Store, he'd be beside himself. But that paled into insignificance when Duncan considered his kinsman's reaction if Richie was born prematurely into his Immortality because of his dammed incompetence. "It's going to take a while."

"And if he doesn't have a while?" Tessa asked astutely.

"He will," Duncan vowed. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Across town Richie Ryan curled up on his side on the thin, bare mattress, in one corner of the storeroom, and wept. 


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning Duncan loitered at the back the run down garage and watched. He never saw Richie arrive, which gave credence to the lad's tale that he was living on the premises. Although, it also begged the question, why did he feel the need to wear sunglasses when he hadn't even stepped outside? He tried to tell himself not to borrow trouble, although the way the lad was handed one dirty job after another while the others stood around shooting the breeze or critiquing the lad's best efforts with jeering words made his blood boil. Somewhat to his surprise Richie kept his mouth shut and his head down.

Which only added to his concern.

At lunchtime the men took themselves off to the bar across the road, deliberately cold shouldering Richie and leaving him, judging by the brief but heated exchange, to finish the work they had neglected. Left alone, Richie threw down his wrench in despair as he gave vent to a string of expletives that made even the Scot's eyebrows rise, before he sank to the floor in a pool of abject misery.

Duncan's jaw clenched as his hand twitched reflexively for his sword. Decision made he crossed the road to a local deli, emerging a few minutes later with his purchases.

"Here."

The voice made Richie glance up from the floor in surprise, his gaze tracking over the hand made leather boots, up the designer jeans to the now familiar leather coat and the large brown paper bag hovering in his field of vision.

"Macleod," The look of alarm on the lad's face as he scrambled to his feet wasn't exactly the reception he had envisaged. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Tessa was worried you weren't eating properly." Duncan shrugged. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Well, thanks, now make tracks willya?" Richie barely glanced at the brown paper bag as he looked anxiously over his shoulder towards the bar. "You gotta have vases to sell or swords to polish or something."

"Alright, I'll go," Duncan put his hands in his pockets. "Just as soon as you tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing."

Without a word Duncan reached forward and plucked the sunglasses from his face, tilting the lad's face into the light, sure enough, he was sporting a spectacular black eye.

"That doesn't look like nothing."

"Yeah well, its nothing compared to what's gonna happen if they catch me talking to you again, alright? Richie pulled away.

"Talking to me?" Duncan frowned. "What happened?"

"Some dude comes around in some fancy ride, with designer clothes and wallet full of cash, asking questions. What the hell do you think happened? They thought you were an undercover cop or something. I'm lucky I've still got a job."

No matter how many times it happened, Duncan never got used to the feelings of guilt and helplessness when witnessing someone suffering simply for being his friend. It was his own fault for trying to get too close to the boy. If it had been another Immortal the chances were the lad would have considerably more than a black eye to worry about. He should have known better. Abruptly he turned on his heel, leaving Richie staring after him in confusion. He was almost at the door before he could force the words out over his closed throat.

"I'm sorry."

He walked out without looking back.

* * *

As soon as he got home he did what he should have done in the first place. Three simple phone calls were all it took to secure the boy's future. And if he lived to a ripe old age and died in his bed without ever being thrust into his Immortality, then so much the better and there would never be any need for their paths to cross again.

It was for the best.

He had to believe that.

He supposed he should have expected Tessa's reaction.

"So," She stood in the doorway regarding him with a glare, her arms crossed. "This is how you wash your hands of him? With a cheque?"

"I'm not washing my hands of him, Tessa. I'm trying to keep him alive."

"By abandoning him?"

"Richie knows how to take care of himself."

"And this is why his face looked like a blueberry pancake?"

"Better that then dead," Duncan muttered with grim truth. The boy was a trouble magnet and no mistake. Add Immortals to the mix and he'd be looking at an early grave or worse. "Look, the money will be enough to give him a head start, put a down payment on an apartment, maybe enrol in college. He's a bright boy, he'll make the right choices."

"You cannot be sure of this." Tessa was rightly sceptical.

Richie's reaction was rather more of a surprise.

"What do you mean, he wouldn't take the money?"

"Just that," On the other end of the phone Karl Burton, a long time Seacouver beat cop turned private eye shrugged. "I told him that I was from Social Services like you asked, he seemed pretty surprised that anyone would bother to come looking for him, but he was eager enough when I said there was a cheque due him."

"So, what happened?"

"Look, you gotta realise, these kids typically get something like a few hundred dollars, when they leave state care, if anything at all. That kinda serious money is bound to raise questions."

"You used the cover story I gave you?"

"Sure, I said it was a bequest from Emily Ryan's estate and as her only living relative it had been held in trust until he turned 18 and we'd been looking for him ever since."

"So?"

"So, he said that was 'a load of croak.' Seems the kid pulled some sorta scam at Child Services the other week and got a look at his paperwork. Turns out this Emily Ryan was his foster mother, besides which he said they never had any money." Burton paused uncomfortably.

"What _exactly _did he say?"

"He said it wasn't like they lived in some fancy place in the heights."

"He guessed it was me."

"I'd say so. Look, I got him to take the cheque. I told him I wouldn't get paid unless I delivered it. I figure when he gets cold or hungry enough he'll cash it."

"Maybe."

Duncan wasn't so sure. The lad had already proved that he was too stubborn for his own good and unwilling to be beholden to anyone if he thought there were strings attached. Still, Burton had been a beat cop a long time and he had good instincts. It couldn't do any harm to wait a week or so and see what happened.

* * *

When the phone rang at 2am he knew it wasn't good. Anyone calling from another time zone for a chat usually had the courtesy to check the difference. Reaching over to pluck the receiver from its cradle he met Tessa's worried eyes.

"Macleod."

"Ah, Mr Macleod, you don't know me but I'm Anne Lindsay, a doctor in the ER at Seacouver General. I'm sorry to call so early but I wondered if you knew a teenage boy, blonde, about five three, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old? We found your business card in his jeans pocket."

"I know him," Duncan confirmed, his stomach clenching. If they were trying to track down his next of kin then things must be pretty bad. "His name is Richie Ryan. Is he alright?"

"I'm sorry Mr Macleod, but before I release that information I need to know what your relationship is to him."

"I'm his employer," Duncan lied glibly. "Richie is an orphan. He was in foster care until a few weeks ago when he turned eighteen. He moved around. A lot. I'm the closest thing to family he has." The ironic thing, Duncan reflected, was that his statement was quite possibly true.

"I see," He could almost hear Dr Lindsay chewing her lip. "That might explain the amnesia."

"He has amnesia?"

"What he has is a pretty nasty lump on the back of his head, no medical insurance," Duncan could hear the sympathy in the doctors' voice. "I'm guessing he thinks it's a good call."

"Concussion?"

"I can't rule it out." Lindsay admitted.

"Do whatever you think best, Doctor," Duncan advised her. "I'll pay any costs."

"Well, he's pretty battered, he was found semi-conscious in an alley, looks like he was jumped and when they found he didn't have anything worth stealing they got mad." She paused.

"How badly is he hurt?"

"It looks worse than it really is. A few deep bruises on his back and legs that will need watching, a nasty scratch down his ribs, long but shallow, as long as its kept clean it should heal without scaring and then there's that lump on his head. All he really needs," Lindsay pressed. "Is a warm bed and a kindly soul to keep an eye on him overnight."

"Alright," Duncan gave in. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I'll tell him you're coming." Lindsay sounded relieved.

"Ah, about that," Duncan's face twisted. "Maybe, you'd better not say anything just yet."

"Broke curfew did he?" He could hear Lindsay's smile.

"Something like that."

"Look, Mr Macleod, its not up to me to tell people how to raise their kids, but try not to come down too hard on him," Linsay counselled. "He's already had a pretty rough night and he'll be stiff enough to feel pretty sorry for himself when he wakes tomorrow morning."

"I'll try to remember that."

Putting the phone down he considered his options. Like as not if Ryan saw him, he'd just take off again and by the sounds of it the lad was in no fit state to be out on the streets. Which meant he needed another approach.

"What has happened to Richie?" Tessa asked, with genuine concern.

* * *

Richie Ryan hopped, carefully, off the examination bed, wincing slightly as his need to ensure that his dignity was well covered in the draughty hospital gown warred with his body's ability to manoeuvre. Poking his head out of the curtain he looked up and down the hallway, estimating his chances of scoring some clothes and high tailing it out of here before the Lady Doc returned.

"Ahem."

The soft sound from behind him made him whirl around, desperately clutching at the back of his gown, even as he blushed bright red, knowing that whoever had entered the cubical from the other side would already have got an eyeful.

"Tessa!" He exclaimed, forgetting in his surprise to be embarrassed. "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same question," She replied as she crossed the distance between them, her hand, soft and smelling slightly of lilies, cupped his jaw and her eyes narrowed as she took in the bruises that marred his face. "Who did this?"

"Just some guys," Richie shrugged. "I already told the Doc that I don't remember nothing."

"You know who I am." Tessa pointed out.

"Look, much as I'd love to stay and chat," Richie adroitly changed the subject. "I'm trying to get out of here before someone decides to have me committed."

"Dressed like that?" She raised a brow.

"Yeah, well, they kinda took all my stuff." Richie groused, not wanting to gross her out by telling her that the long scratch down his ribs from the point of the knife had bled all over his left side, or that being rolled and kicked across the floor in the garbage and filth strewn alley had sent his only good pair of jeans past the point of no return.

"Then perhaps you should have these."

Richie peered into the bag she offered him, jeans, a jumper, flannel shirt, socks and to his acute embarrassment a pair of those kind of brief things that he hadn't worn since he was in elementary school.

"They are not right?" Tessa asked, watching his face.

"No, they're fine," Richie assured her quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful. _Surely, Macleod didn't wear those things?_ "More than fine. Thanks."

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other.

"Um, Tess?" Richie offered hopefully.

"Oh, I am so sorry, do you need some help getting changed?"

"Noo," He drew the word out. "Though, a little privacy would be nice?"

"Richie," she crossed her arms. "I grew up with two brothers, I am not going to wait outside so you can slip and injure yourself more than you already have."

"Well, could you at least turn around?"

"Then how will I see if you are to have an accident? Besides," Her impish grin surprised him, "If you are the one to turn around I won't be seeing anything I haven't already seen."

* * *

He felt her watching him with concern as they walked through the Hospital reception. She hadn't said anything, but he figured she had to be pretty grossed out by the boot shaped bruise he was pretty sure he had on his back.

"Um, Tess. Thanks for the clothes and all, but you should probably get going. Macleod will be wondering where you are. I can take it from here."

"And where exactly are you going to take it?" Tessa challenged.

"Well, I figured the Zoo, is closed this time of night," Richie tipped his head on one side. "So, my place?"

"If you think you are going back to that bad place with those wicked people when you are hurting so badly," Tessa managed, before she lapsed into a tirade of angry French.

"Hey, I'm eighteen now, I can do as I like."

"And this includes breaking the law and making money out of other people's suffering when their cars are stolen?"

"Will you keep your voice down?" Richie hissed, as he realised they were attracting attention. "And its not like I'm the one making any money here!"

"Then it will not bother you when I do this!" Tessa made a beeline for the nearest phone

"Tessa, what are you doing?"

"Hello. Yes, is that the police? I would like to report the discovery of several stolen vehicles. Licence Plate numbers?" She raised a brow at Richie, who sighed and resigning himself to the inevitable recited the latest batch of arrivals. "Location?" Tessa glared and Richie parroted the address. "Who am I?" Tessa frowned at the phone.

"Hang up!" Richie hissed.

Tessa silenced him with a finger on his lips as she drew herself up haughtily to her full height. "I am an officer of the Gendarmerie de France temporarily assigned to the FBI."

"FBI?" Richie winced, making a face.

Tessa just put the phone down with a satisfied air and turned her attention to Richie.

"So, now it is settled. You will stay with us." She announced. "The car is this way."

"And I thought Macleod was the scary one." Richie muttered as he trailed in her wake.


End file.
